Duane Eddy Mows His Lawn

Open range cactus surf dramas
born of the sea & coastal fogs
                                                a liquid territory
                              landing with a THUD
                                                as opposed to a SPLASH
              outside the realm of these
                              Byzantine street hassles

no difference between ocean & air here
“Voice of the Rolling Tide”
                              as Mike says thinking of the
                                                Gnostic Worm?

& who knows how many other worlds we’ll
have to destroy . . .

I dive into the damp shadow at my
              feet & wind up embalmed in concrete