Lay My Bones
... where do I lay
Where do I leave my bones,
for all the animals of prey?
Do you remember the winter of 1983?
When thunder storms at 20° below?
Lightning turned green,
so cold it could not snow.
Maybe on a mountain top
Overlooking my favorite lake
Where coyotes could howl
as soon as the full moon does break.
Oh! The fireworks display
July fourth,1976; the nation was
200 years old, clouds and mist filled the sky
As bombs burst there in the air.
Maybe behind a texas tumbleweed,
that's always roving on the go.
As to only which way
The wind does blow.
My first wife was a Buddhist.
We were married by a monk
In orange and gold and yellows.
The sacred wine we drunk.
I won't leave them there
by the dunes of the sea.
Even though the haunting waves crashing
Still are calling me.
Perhaps I could fall from the mountains
Into the river below
Be swept away into a new beginning
As does the river flow.
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