Some Of Us Got Paid by Eskobar

(March 19's blog one-day early... I'll be out-of-town tomorrow!)

going

until i see (the purple sky moon blur
white cloud

sustenance) coming,
i'll

be treading water,
running

globes

down like trees / until
you
tell me okay, go,

i'll be

shooting stars with little whistles
in

my mind
like
buckeyes  /

until you

hang me on the wall,
face first,
like

some prize
you
won

in the field  /...
well  /...

i'll be going.
bon

voyage.