Forever Stuck In Barstow
© Surazeus
2017 04 04
I walk the desert highway at midnight
between Las Vegas and Las Angeles
where dust devils dance in wordless starlight
and teach me how to breathe with calculus.
Following the way where laughing winds blow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I watch people drive past in flashing cars
and wonder what secrets they hope to find
before they die and become dust of stars
when lost dreams vanish from their shattered minds.
Following the way that never spies snow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I sleep all night behind library sign
then stand all day beside the busy road,
plucking eyeballs from tangled mental vine
that proves how math transforms me from the toad.
Following the way I pretend to know,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I draw the flat-top pyramid in sand
where our Sun Queen creates the Earth and Sky
since I transform the world with crippled hand
and dream the universe in my blind eye.
Following the way I can map to grow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I walk the dusty road ten thousand miles,
holding hands with my sweet skeleton bride
who takes me to the valley of exiles
to find the statue of my crumbling pride.
Following the way where star rivers flow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
On top the treeless mountain of star eyes
I find Abraxas carving my true name
on emerald stone that reveals my disguise
which helps me to avoid the curse of fame.
Following the way exposed by my crow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I wander bright maze of numberless doors
still searching for the hidden Holy Grail
sold for ninety-nine cents in empty stores,
illustrated by the yellow foxtail.
Following the way long-dead prophets show,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
Just outside town, where eyeless angels play,
I find the poete maudit Baudelaire
who takes me to Dionysian chalet
where I now rule the world from mountain lair.
Following the way where dead angels glow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
© Surazeus
2017 04 04
I walk the desert highway at midnight
between Las Vegas and Las Angeles
where dust devils dance in wordless starlight
and teach me how to breathe with calculus.
Following the way where laughing winds blow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I watch people drive past in flashing cars
and wonder what secrets they hope to find
before they die and become dust of stars
when lost dreams vanish from their shattered minds.
Following the way that never spies snow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I sleep all night behind library sign
then stand all day beside the busy road,
plucking eyeballs from tangled mental vine
that proves how math transforms me from the toad.
Following the way I pretend to know,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I draw the flat-top pyramid in sand
where our Sun Queen creates the Earth and Sky
since I transform the world with crippled hand
and dream the universe in my blind eye.
Following the way I can map to grow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I walk the dusty road ten thousand miles,
holding hands with my sweet skeleton bride
who takes me to the valley of exiles
to find the statue of my crumbling pride.
Following the way where star rivers flow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
On top the treeless mountain of star eyes
I find Abraxas carving my true name
on emerald stone that reveals my disguise
which helps me to avoid the curse of fame.
Following the way exposed by my crow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
I wander bright maze of numberless doors
still searching for the hidden Holy Grail
sold for ninety-nine cents in empty stores,
illustrated by the yellow foxtail.
Following the way long-dead prophets show,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
Just outside town, where eyeless angels play,
I find the poete maudit Baudelaire
who takes me to Dionysian chalet
where I now rule the world from mountain lair.
Following the way where dead angels glow,
I sing the blues forever stuck in Barstow.
While hitchhiking from Albuquerque to Desert Hot Springs on my way back to Seattle in 1993, I got stuck for three days in Barstow, California.
ReplyDeleteI learned the secret of truckers. (truck stops)
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