Nitroglycerin slips in
a bedazzled coma
where you lie down
peacefully in your sleep
hibernation of the mind
sharpening of the senses
and anxiously awaiting
the second coming.
Apocalyptic forces
chisel your features
into a nameless rock
with a cactus audience
and deserts that lie ahead
at the end of the bifurcation
the beginning of your choice.
Atrophying dreams
on galloping horses
ride like the pony express
over streams of consciousness
and into mountain ranges
where love lies hidden,
ready to spring.
Blooming bluebonnets
a sign of summer and hills
that speak age-old tales
of cackling witches and death
of bears and red riding hoods
like the gossipmongers,
the fish wives’ voices
inside your head.