"a night in the canyon"

"a night in the canyon"
without slumber or sense by jake kilroy.

clank boots stuffed into my ears,
as the wood rattled below me,
the burial ground of incorrigible poets
that i inhaled with hot breath to speak
this bombarding mess of words
roaming, conquering, and devouring.

twas hot light in morning memories,
pierced.
tis forever a white bed in daydreams,
adorned.
and now it's all friends in good suits
waiting for a funeral march
that wouldn't demand
much work.

my head in the bed of an el camino,
i slept under the stars
with more fools,
here for a spell,
without magic,
finally come to terms
with imagination
only a close second to reality;
but still the background regardless.

went wanting into my heart,
dug up in the summer dirt,
blown clean and whispered truth,
set back into the wilderness
to eat what it could find.

so out here in the canyon,
what good is the sun and the moon
beyond telling time?

all of our energy lost to age,
we swung at each other
with fists that felt like gavels,
come down to the earth,
noiselessly calling our bluffs.

and when the creek lit up,
chatting up this ol' storm,
all that we wanted to hear,
as we stood there in a row,
was that we could take back our youth for once.