Folk Music

the redheaded kid
in his banjo'ed rhymes
met at the apocalypse
or maybe appomattox
one or the other
free willie the bumper sticker said
the kid ran the story where
the witch had left him. amazing promises
none kept, some distorted.
his courage was an intricate vessel
shaped by someone else's hands
on the spinning wheel of his
betrayal, left me and the sand
of the timelessness in the wordlessness
of boredom and bureacracy. all
stories inhibit;;;that's why
he juiced his last newton
flailing in the monster world
shoggoth's a motorcycle betrayal
down the beach up the establishment
some pretty disturbed numbers
being rung on the wheel of deception
hey gary how are you now?
just about dead in the water.
right? I found that Madeline
L’Engle book the other day,
with your inscription:
friends forever artists
in America. a snow angel
in my memory.