I

A blind and unwise man
once told me:
It’s all a bunch of voodoo magic.
Happens to be
that voodoo magic’s
alright with me.

All I know is
I don’t know.
Answers wait at Raymer’s Cove
on Lake Mendota,
‘pon cliffs limestone.
How the water and wind erode.

Sun goes down
for you to find
traces of another time,
echoes of another life,
smoldering, silently
a silver stream, electra-lasting.

———————————–

II

I was
slain,
slain.
Slain by the moment,
slain by the events
I was
slain,
slain.
Slain by the moment,
slain by the events
I was
slain,
slain.
Slain by the moment,
slain by the events
I was…

———————————–

III

My fellow fellows:
What’s taking place?
What have we learned here,
if I may ask
at this juncture?

My fellow fellows:
What’s taking place?
What have we learned here,
if I may ask
at this juncture?

———————————–

IV

I don’t like being alone
for too long, for too long.
I don’t mind being alone
for too long. For too long.

I don’t mind being solo
for too long. For too long.
I don’t like being so low
for too long. For too long.

Solo
for too long.

So low
for too long.

Alone
for too long.

We’re not here
for too long.

———————————–

V

Happens to be
I was
slain, slain.
Slain by the moment,
slain by the events
at this juncture,
at this juncture.

Happens to be
we’re not here,
we’re not here,
for too long.
For too long.
For too long.

Happens to be.
Happens to be.

(9/27/2018: Irish Acres, Mount Horeb, Wisconsin)