caress the smokey path

the tilled journey of blackness

the lilt of shadows

let the flute and the coyotes

sing you

to the gate

as the red lights flash

the weird little red lights of warning

flash

don’t hesitate to climb onto the big rocks

climb them to the precipice

and then jump

even if your bones break and

people ponder

the fall

Leave the mess

Leave the torn and attempted bandages

take your wrist and turn it downward

let your hand dangle

notice how it hangs in the silence

this is a type of language

the language of a hand held

against its wish

all the moths dropping

from its fingers

in the dark