Ecstasy in Weird Places

this will probably be edited some :)

Ecstasy in Weird Places

The poet's goal is to please the goddess

by writing words to let her know

how he feels about her, how he loves

and is moved by her, this is done with nature

and swooning words to describe flowers

and swaying words for trees

cloying words for fruit

and fuzzy, rambling words for animals and beasts.

I tried to go to the desert

and sit with a cactus all day,

my guitar in hand waiting

to play what it has to say; but the cactus is mighty quiet

just as quiet as the rocks, and the birds that fly

are plump and silly, and usually they just run.

Oh, sun! It beat down on my head and browned my arms

gave me a ratty desert tan, and who knew this would be

the life for me? Who knew this place was the place

where weird ecstasy would reveal itself?

So tonight I sing songs, desert songs, long lonely and dry

filled with prickles and thorns and poisons

that delight and derange the eyes, the nose, and even the ears

with all the quiet going 'round, and the occasional flutter

or distant howl being enough to bring the moon to crest.

Ahhh, the moon so big and clear along with the rest

of the black velvet night, pinpricked with stars

and the milky way itself jizzing all over its cloth;

I trust those stars to guide my mind, the big dipper is always there,

to the right, the east, scooping and dumping

dry air, for very rarely does the rain come and wash away

the grit and grime from the beginning of time

that covers everything.

When coyotes start wailing it's a symphony of trickery

and a cold shard of fear pokes in the heart

where it's quickly transformed into love. Listen and wonder

feel the power of the thick petaled flowers, the leaves so tough

and greasy, with the smell of creosote and other astringents

the best nights are when there is threat of rain

and the petals exude waiting for the cloud

to burst and let them drink to fill, yes that's how they work

the desert's will. I have seen already the frogs come from the ground,

round and fat, golden brown and how they hopped and called

and were everywhere three whole days, then they dug their new holes

to sleep a few years again. I wonder if I will see them

next time they come, if I'll still be here alive and around.

Yes it's true she's magic this land, but not magic in a way

magicians understand, a kind of magic that soaks and seeps

and spreads across the rocks and cacti the tarantulas and sand.

Everything has barbs and the sky's filled with lights

that hover bright orange then disappear at once,

I suppose this is heaven to some demon spawn of hell

but even though hellish, it's heaven to me as well.