Back
of the car coming back from Amish country when I got the text
His
guy had come through and he could hook me up tomorrow before the stone setting
Waiting
for the man can be a dubious affair; it can also be the only thing that exceeds
expectations when your whole life is one car crash after the next
Escaping
reality these tortured days is a prerequisite to protecting the light that is our
soul
Everything
is a drug so it’s best to do the good drugs because waiting around to die only
proves beyond fruitless in a Townes Van Zandt soundscape of shit kicking
cowboys and the bareback mountains they’re afraid to climb
I
tell people my inner child is a monkey and they always laugh because they don’t
seem to get how much truth I’m spilling as another phoenix goes up in smoke
My
art has saved me from a life of doldrums and lethargy, but it’s best not to
envy me because I too often live hand to mouth as I await the creativity to
kick in and transport me from this labyrinth of sleep and PTSD
You
want to know the truth well I can only disclose so much at any given time as I
daydream about Kat Boyd walking down the Glasgow streets
When
I’m in the grips of a writing jag there’s no better high and as I await my next
poetic journey lighting the pipe and listening to the Gods in my head keeps me
spry and in fighting shape
I’ve
known him since high school and he never fails to astound me with how laid back
he is in a crisis of conscious and twisted steel
I
like to think of him as the Godfather like Brando was once upon a time
Waiting
for the next Lou record to drop because you cannot accept that he’s dead and in
the meantime driving the spike in takes away some of the agony of having to
wake up only to die all over again
Charles Cicirella
7/27/2019
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