the subterranean sacred
forces like
love & lust
or money
push us into
cities that
were briefly
fierce industrial
dragons blowing
fire and copper
flecked air
into the streets
but are now
sites of abandonment
or sacrifice
daydreams perhaps
& will -
at 45
after no guitar
for 15 years
hands were weak
i came here
playing again
like a singing
lazarus and
tried to melt
into a scene
of house shows
run by people
who could be
my children
i didn't care
i think they did
care that is
or notice
but you
can never
be sure
to be rejected
at 50
by young people
hosting basement
shows at say
the subterranean
sacred is odd
it cannot
be resolved
in the mind
only borne
packed into
a banjo case
like a brightly
feathered bird
and carried down
a street
once shimmering
with iron toxins
and now fading
into wildflower
lots and
released
