New Crazy Dog Songs, #3: Blurt Mambo

not sleeping is like the fun rock climb
of a night that holds up
the altitude in you and takes everything it’s got
to use for the purchase of something hot —
grease jewels, redacted assays, stents and shunts
drawing down the sifted juice you swim in

not stopping the thought parade
is like forgiving
the skatepark revelator folk magician
who steps on the bullsnake
and cuts its head off while the rest
thrashes home toward the grave of its past
sliding on blood over the pavement —
air below its throes and it won’t die

mad props and hosannas to the elevator eyes on high speed
mad ghost choir shadormas to the spanking of reason
mad ballistic chants to chi coursing on organs in open pipe mode

not sleeping is how it begins
the holy writ of unholy charge in the vein

and its will be done
until its will is done
its will be done
until its will be
done