Stepping Off The Edge

Now
We do not even know
What to wish for you

Oh sleep rocked
In an empty hand
-W.S. Merwin

                           

Festivals

it's hot and dry and

all the night sounds are

wriggling against my skin

dust gallops the grass

rising like a mountain,

challenging the sky.

this thing exits within

itself and nothing else.

bright lights captured

in cloth and skin, captured

in photos, drugs

and deranged listening.

a destination to disappear

to fall within ourselves

and excuse it for music

to think we are unique

by wandering the crowds,

on a break from Reason

worshipping our icons in

swarms of skirted chaos

carnival contraptions whirling

summoning demons and

casting spells as the world

is condensed to single drop

of whatever it is we are taking