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Do not report near my poems, jackass, Albuquerque NM

Description

that suffocation in the crown chakra, the terror of the rear view mirror, the alphabet men of this traumatized state against the impoverished citizens of Albuquerque, protecting the rights of the children of war criminals that tear up the earth to build a new deck. I stand still against the backdrop of the peeling white Future Home of the RTG (Right to God's) American Dream sign, my soul oscillates between the edges of the concrete ditch below the freeway, attempting to encounter you. I love that you hated Arizona, I love that you hated Texas. I wish that I could have given you some solace in an acre of land, a pound of my heart, a sliver of my soul. I wonder if you had ever heard of the Taos hum, if I could explain to you the things that I hear in my head. When only that curtain call remains, and every old wound has been bled, I’ll explain to everyone where I’m from, and how many things you’ve left unsaid.