Wagon Wheel In My Yard

Wagon Wheel In My Yard
© Surazeus
2025 12 21

If wagon wheel in my yard represents 
progress of my ancestors on long roads 
to find the Promised Land on ancient maps, 
then I will let it support curling vines 
of our descendants the next thousand years 
who will search for their Eden somewhere else. 

When old man on the porch with cracked guitar 
claims blood is lubricant of history, 
not money as he once thought in his youth, 
I convert bicycles with twisted bars 
into statue of Saturn with long hair 
that mimics how I look when I grow old. 

I refuse to believe that history 
is hallucination of our lost tribe 
who invents fantasy of our great state 
based on mirage of our superior minds 
that we chase across waste land of our faith 
till we find Blind Justice at the crossroads. 

I may suffer from the fever of time 
but I always what time it is now 
because I love to invent from fake myths 
stories of real people who strive for truth 
though I am mad with visions of weird worlds 
that replicate across our multiverse. 

When rain is falling on my doorless house 
that floats in sudden winds of social change, 
I find it lands on hill of laughing skulls 
so I run with horses on fenceless plains, 
feet soaking wet in mud puddles of faith, 
till I find empty room of memories. 

Stuck in the classroom of arrogant books, 
I learn to speak every language on Earth 
so I can know the stories of dead gods 
who ask me to grill hamburgers for lunch, 
so we play chess while the rain arrogates 
truth of the wagon wheel in my yard. 

Perhaps my great-grandfather in thick boots 
did not drive the wagon of eager hope 
nor left this wheel that spun two thousand miles 
after burning wagon wood the first winter 
to keep his children warm in swirling snow 
that reveals mountain ghosts of the lost tribes. 

Rain erases all my ancestral names 
from tombstones in graveyards of their despair 
along signless roads sea to shining sea, 
so I resurrect their bodies from graves 
and lead Spartans sown from dragon teeth 
homeward with the wagon wheel in my yard.