all my fear
placed in gastric intention
stomach full of acid and thoughts
words that make you puke
it is all blackness
blackness on that sliver of quiet death
that millisecond right before the light turns on
or the light goes out
in a place the black man tap dances
the noises so beautiful they make me feel at home
and someone is singing me the blues
that place
where the rabbit is nestled in the crook or the hollow
that tree, my death's tree with the moss
blanketed and shining wet
when spring makes me new again
fear churns and comfort burns
the pain becomes alright
freedom in the heads grassy meadow
but now summer is on me and the bird's songs should comfort
but it doesn't
all I can hope for is daydreams as the sun stays too long
and I have folk songs in my ears
and birds on my lame brain
hoping for warmth to be my antacid
on this discontented day.