Patterns

Transitional Landscapes
Undulating, unveiling, timbered pines
in the country, on the interstate, east of Dallas
Across transitional landscapes
into the rocky planes, north-central
Heading west, cross-fading
from a bizarre winter wind,
dull and balmy, that December from the south
Charmed discomfort, or surreal confusion,
headlong into dissent, away
toward all that was unknown
The dry-ice desert-scape along the 40
in northern New Mexico,
tracing its gaze across the Southwest
as the moon shone
the snow in stunning black light
From eras glazed over mounting exposition,
abstracted from within and dutifully charged,
defined in propulsion, then deadened in tracks
A lier in wait, unknowing, rearranging
weaves of ill-timed, esoteric inscription
read aloud in earnest –
in tender loving cruelty
Dress Rehearsal Rag bellowing omens,
touching raw nerves, eliciting your tears
Rattling window speakers, raw baritone slicing
meditation through air, like Santoku blades
carelessly cutting our silken skin
Dropping weight in symphonic clangs,
spontaneous gasps, staggering away,
projecting ahead – remains on the road
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