SOUL MATES

So many magicians

So little magic

A wall is not a book

nor eyes telescopes

Between wall and mountain

Switchback trails

rabid winds. Nothing up our sleeves

Nothing but hands and veins

All crooks and loops

A blade beneath the tongue,

just in case. Embers for eyes

that have seen it all

again. So much prophecy

So few prophets

The end of the world

came and went

Patented escape the new

nirvana. Martyrs for martyrdom

that’s our take. At the edge of the land fill

it’s all night rave

Blood sausage for the scavenger’s

den. Dying’s the last solitary pleasure

Left foot right foot

Neither cares

to leave the other

behind