on to the next thousand poems

where they might be dug up
is still up
in the air
hard rock isn't a bar in key west
but a scarred landscape
and facial expression
less the ego
where the mountains know
and you know
where it all leads
but i don't need to tell you

the streetcars would usually stop running

just as you needed a ride home
you learned how to walk the walk
in the drip of a river mist
with darkness
your sibling

the gulf of mexico

is a gateway
from rabid consumption
a mainland pukes when it gets drunk
but it never seems to reckon itself
with the obvious conclusions

you have too much

you have learned to
stand and deliver
in the light of your own experience
but find it hard to disown
      anything

not every canyon has a bottom
there always seems to be
another crevice in the distance
to guide you deeper
into the mantle
into the heat

--- e b bortz