Are you supposed to save me?
in the mountains.
Bring me wildflowers
to adorn my ancient hair
on the cloud-brushed plains of Texas.
If I walk at night through the colonnade
of your dreams.
Don’t be scared.
Perhaps it’s a neurotransmitter
I was meant to be.
Routing and rerouting
every memory that was meant to be.
Burn enzymes in your hippocampus.
Make tones in your heart.
Let us create
this new kingdom of consciousness.
One that makes you mortal again,
nothing left that’s from the earth,
leave those chalk bones on the land.
One that makes you walk down
the tallgrass hills
and come ’round the bend
to find the view of the sundrenched valley,
with bones amongst the tallgrass.
I am the king of the Mt. Tewkley summer
You are the queen of the mists in spring.
You float from the mountains
are gone by our lunching and songmaking
Yours is the body laid down that is
Now mine is this far off land,
envisioned by human beings.