I can't stop mixing these feelings with volcano thoughts
and sometimes you need to vomit crap onto the paper before you get cuisine.
Night ride I
down tree vaulted asphalt of Martin Luther King Jr Drive.
Headlights flash and blur in my mini rear-view
cars passing too close
but my aluminum reinforced tubes and steely resolve keep me riding on,
the wheels spinning by on this river side ride
of empty miles of moon reflected rain flecked
street forest hanging overhead to the right
while scattered trees mixed with non-native invasives upon the riparian zone
and the wild
geese and goslings and goose shit piling high on and along the grass and pathway:
but I who choose the road avoid gutted
mutilated rotting geese carcasses deeply genuflecting on the bike route.