wake in parking lot
in fog realizing
you’re in a separate
vessel, your chariot
wake before dawn &
it’s warm fur, crickets
a poet ghost hugged me
her eyes shining
like ocean
a poet ghost blessed

the car engines
lulling me night
the redneck bangs
and singing
“I’m a good old boy
my mama loves me”

going to Bath Maine
to get cleansed
tree stumps with bouquets
of flowers

Diesel rig sounds wrapping
me safely in sleep

E last night
talking about
getting a musical apprenticeship
& he can’t because he’s
hit an invisible ceiling
of how far
they will let a Native
American succeed

like giants, like
gods have taken
my hands & are leading
me on now
and the wind has become so
warm and soft and leading

these waves and
wind are the
best sound
there could be
a cleansing tunnel
pulling me
the ocean sand
alive by water
and nurturing my
feet as I walk
this spreads me
out into everything
I am so big &
sandy & wavy

sparkling ocean
eyes I
can’t believe
it’s real
walking with
people painting all
over the sea

people finding me
so lightly bathed
in bone & rush eyed
but I know
finding this ocean
is it
limping seagulls
and healing god sun
animal poet
running on adrenaline
I’m just a sprawl of earth
and sun and other people
my cotton clothes from field
my water filled body
lies panting in Indian grasses
growing from live sand
painted blood like trees
and seagull mouths
the holy sky grows me

and the shine
waves play with
boats play people
play rocks
lying painted
water fills me
the sand talks
cleansed and turning into
glass the waves talk back yes
they talk back and forth
until the tide goes
out & in again
the rawness
of my being

this is no time
for hesitation
it’s time to run &
laugh & cry wildly

thank you to whoever
made my kind night
made my life so clean
& clear & full of music
& wind

just some gaps
she said
to fill with wave

I can run again