DAWNS UNFURLING WAVE

do i die some in this unfurling wave?

in this nearly dawn of night?

my insect heart racing all one summer day that was a mystery even as i rode it's anxious rolls

and the fresh air stimulates my sodden heavy mind and the wait for the transcendent moments when i am still a small god.

do i fly somehow round the daylight beacons?  do i fly ok?

soon i awkwardly land to crash again . . . 

and i am magic in my sloth of grace 

and subtle white flab of enormous dignity

though 

i 

admit

i coarsely fart a bit with relief

when i see there is no light just yet in the changing sky.

it is not bad for a small god like i

to wind out the epic day and the saviour night

with scotch and scotch and scotch till dawns unfurling wave.

things that are AMAZING are only ever on TV

and the sky out here now is dreaming its vista of the worlds end

and the crazy people do their madness so close to my quiet paths and blue hesitations - they are all background gold

a silver barrage of horror and smiles

and time; TIME exposes the experience of the small god like i

his clarity moments

his insane instants

are helpless screen burn as the same song coming out the kitchen again

and he (the small god like i) 

thinks he has something to tell someone . . . 

but his sad belching and baggy slouch habits

shuffle the small god

out to the garage and 

aimlessly

up 

and 

down 

the lawn.