What goes up
Must stay in sky. Dum v. v.
What ain’t ancient
Ain’t coming back. Dum v. v.
I howl Dum v. v.
From the back of my throat
Which is filled with malbec
And you say you can’t hear.
Dumb to see. Let us be.
What spills from the block of clouds
Are gifts we string to pearls.
Dum v. v. is a blessing
Of your sacred art.
I flop with dum v. v.
In ocean and salt sticks to hair
And you are sandside, waving in a black bathing suit
And the sun is a knuckle. We get drunk
And stay drunk
And get drunk again when we come down
And live where music never stops
This is Mexico and all else before anyway
It’s easy to say dum v. v.
I found my Ithaca to come back to every night
Excited and with barrels of wine, dum v. v.
And you dum v. v. late nights with you finish before they’re done
I’ve never had a bad time living hard.
What we miss don’t matter
What we build is the only standing thing