I measure short distances with my eye
and the pulsing neon price in my bones.
Back to basics, I would rather melt in place
and be reconstituted among the grasses
than leave my soul among the self-righteous
corralled within their alabaster fortresses.
I quit the bunch and shed the nasty weight
of their guilt and hate for one another.
I want to watch among the remnants
when the angels make their gather, and
on the embers of their fire, hear songs rising
to join the stars—now that would be heavenly.
drycrikjournal 