He, moving from dream song to brief
petition for relief. Cannot
concentrate: this world too large
& disappointing all.
His wife don’t love him (do’ she say she do, she do ).
His kids move past him like monochrome dogs
He wants to hunker down,
to hibernate beneath deep roots,
away from baying. He wants: O heavens,
to be his own dream of self.
Grizzled old grizzly, could he jump the bony
bones of pretty women dodging caravans of husbands, raging.
But Mr. Bones, he say, Awake!He sing, Don’t hide thy light under lawn mulch. Heaven sucks.
Come on down! They’s money to be made
In America at War. Wake up old bear!
& Honey, maybe get you some today!
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