NAGA-UTA: The Long Song

 

November-poem
-a-day-in-2012 tripped
along, a 60s
hippy, living the dream; my
fingers worked, a team
laying down thoughts, building blocks
into solid walls
of inspirational sense,
a touch of incense,
threads of smoke scenting the air.
Thirty days, living
the necessary effort
to think of work, to
capture that devil, Insight
swift as silverfish
in a barrel of flour.
I caught it sailing
air, grabbed lungfuls, swallowing
quickly translating
through my fingers into words
to predict my text
and vex the Jonah complex
that ate at time scraped
from my knife. Damn strife.
Inject visions, conclusions
into my veins, push
intentions like drugs, smother
me in graffiti.
Give me deadlines, fine-tune my
actions put me in
traction – stretch this old limo.
Be ruthless, extract
the gold from this soul, sell me
down lazy rivers,
in fact, drive me off a cliff.
Start revolutions…
make me join the roiling swarm.

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