reason for living

i feel the razz the tingle
the water bumping
a silent cotton mouth
gliding in s motion
on the surface
working its way
up my spine in soft
pulsation wake up
the light glance
and reason for living
smells of chopped sage
and road kill the poison
now or never
is so sweet
that miss o’keeffe
blindly paints flowers
feint a pirouette
in the dessert sun
we copulate
in the gore of
creativity and mass
of sacred hues
plucking inspiration
and fireflies
from the wind
from the sharp stars
perplexities and
vicissitudes of
the running wolf
riding magic carpets
of geronimos’ cries
chiseling marks
on the stones
petroglyphs for
children’s fingers
singing everyday
for the turning world