Maybe, I need to sit
4/22/2022, Con/Jur/d

Can hear the Psychopomp 
snuffling -- did a bit of running
jogging really, through the Spring
cemetery, broken branches 
from Anthropocene tantrums
wet cold earth, tilted grave 
stones in rich well fed
mud, provides obstacles

keep Him/Her/Them just 
behind to the left, I can
smell their cigarette
hear the sucking
sound as the
butt of the
scythe

taps the fingerbones
back down -- a Crow
hops around a
persistent white 
dome

of ice
transmuted snow
caws “Why you
running?” Psychopomp
answers “What else we
gonna do?”

The Afterlife of Snowmen
Con/Jur/d, 4/22/2022

Once, late
having snuck away
from the conference
the big personalities
providing little room
for an awkward enth -
usiast, like me &
my wife who didn’t
understand my ob -
session with psych -
edelics, needed it
more, so we es -
caped to a local rest -
aurant, I don’t rem -
ember what we ate
I’m certain I drank
tequila & beer &
sangrita, since 
it was my habit
when in Mexico
& it was all I need -
ed to drop the pre -
tense of sober un -
stoned person -
ality, ality

I know, Andrew
had dreamed of Jaguar &
on this road, near
midnight, with the vertical
high, high grass pale
under the horizontal
wash of moonlight
cricket songs fast
pinpricks across -
across damp skin

with the orange
glow of cigarette tip
illuminating Blake’s tiger, 
stripes implied by
the depth of the humid
shadows, & we were
on a strange road, not
knowing how far it was
to the woosh woosh &
questionable coolness
of the room’s ceiling
fans next to Uxmal

ranting, “This is what
it’s about,  suspended
here in the vegetive
night, only the two of
us, maybe a great -
cat, certainly the spirits
of Mayans,” She saw
the pyramid, appearing
without announcement
above the left fork, “Al -
most there”- right then

I smelled the wet - cold
concrete, the musty -
bitter of fall leaves
the musk of rapid
chlorophyll, the afterlife 
of snowmen

to be built
after we separated
& she moved with
our daughter to Maine.