A kind of highgrade buzz
bombs out while
the Oracle smokes a cigarette
between The Terraplane Blues
& Tales of Brave Ulysses
a trance dance inverted
as the acceptance of
only that which I expect
what lives on to carry
that weight I mean
w/half-expected music
ain’t that much to
stumble thru on our way
for what else we learn to regret
the thought & footsteps
followed or not
is to move in circles
a task or pretense
as such the sky driven to
metallic burnt-orange brocade
w/ropes of seaweed
ripple & flap
as we pitch the empties
into the abyss