Night trail 1
Happy people gathered
in hemp dresses, white, overflowing
laughing, up and down the road,
yogic sitting on gravel, waiting for the talk.
There's the Book of Sun
invisible, moving between auras.
various pages are needed, leaves from a great tree, excerpts to be read, following the path of green tributaries, veins of nature traced to a sea.
Night trail 2
The road is now on a high wall
a vast spectacle, great blocks fused, towering above world, not made for this world
ghostly apparitions follow me, air thin beings, almost vanishing into stratosphere
By the edge of the wall
three people huddle around an excavation, hands dirty
shovelling and moving clumps of wet earth
dug from rock features, boulders, clay of the creators
among mud, there are small golden flowers and
glinting shells of spent bullets
I look down from the high wall.
I see bodies.
arms outstretched, naked forms laid out in no discernible pattern
half submerged in soil on the shore, many of them unmoving,
They are not dead.
Weaving tide from the ocean, lapping at open palms, salt water washing skin.
Night trail 3
I wish I knew the names of
this dining company of drifters, to know of their faces.
but there’s a girl with me, belonging to shared history.
eatery staff sit around in black chairs
discussing whereabouts, plotting the path to shelters in business districts.
We are now walking on financial streets, living outside the sphere of corporate
the smell of sharks is overwhelming but we do not fear,
we are not bleeding.