after Bob and Thomas
I’ve been ten thousand miles too,
to hell and back in your hard rain,
been screaming into the good night
a few times and wrote it down like you
just to keep from throwing it all away.
My hands were blazing, my face to the hard
light of my own rainy days, smoking
late but freed still from an obscure childhood.
Been wounded, been down the road
a few times and wrote it down. I needed to
look at your tweed face, your hair
billowed like some fuckin’ angel. Look at me
here with a hard rain fallin’ on my bare head, few
colors shining, ten thousand silver moments ringing.
You knew the grave before it opened.
Times change, time stays toxic. Too full
of blood to taste the way out, too much dust
to see where I’m going. Formed of sand, I too
will trickle away, one grain at a time, and change
is the curse that’s been cast; first let me be last.