I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
So much things to say So much things to say right now I got so much things to say on social media and in my prayers, but you know speaking into infinity brings infinity into your words so here I go again trying to do that trick in verse in this what you would call meta- poetics but man do I sound full of shit loose like a spinning machine gun without a gunner spewing words like they were undigested pieces of pizza pepperoni mushrooms and ground beef spattered across this page in what looks like a poem oh right yeah that is what this is supposed to be a brain-tickler but I can’t stop at that line above because it’s just too clever and doesn’t stand for anything. ...
near Puerto de Ibañeta (Roncesvalles Pass) in the Spanish Pyrenees no place and the road wound slowly and steadily up a grueling grade no variance no up and down just up through curve and straight up and curve again and straight up again and again and again to the high snowbound pass invisible in fog and early December twilight and along the shoulders the snow pushed there by the steel blades of the snow plows were made into mountains and valleys of a smaller landscape of their own until there was no place to step off the cold wet black near-frozen pavement unyielding in its hard brutal asphalt to pounding heavily weighted foot step no place to step off except into deep snow no place to rest the pain in feet and back and joint no place to sit quiet and still in the silence of frozen air no place to take a piss ...
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