the art of kEith ::: 'E' on everything

It’s such a beautiful, misty day here in the Appalachia.

I’m not aloud to say it– to speak it. My joy goes uncelebrated.

We drove on the Blue Ridge Highway to leave the keys in her abandoned truck for the tow driver.

She is mountain gritty and works with metals. I love her.

She doesn’t feed me like a woman should, like my ravenous ego would like it. Like my mother did.

I want my hair touched. My head comforted. I want my body stroked and I want to be naked most of the time.

I want legs spread wide and screams of ecstasy. I want endless celebration with food and drink and smoke. I want her to understand every word and take delight, as I do in each last sound.

I want her to know ‘despite this’ the joy I see in the bible; that I am saved; that there is no fear no strife no anger.

But I would never speak these things. Never.

this game we play
for what it’s worth
does have high stakes
beyond this earth

for what but here does not pass away
all of it every day

the caravan
and silly sand
the simpleton
that seek and plan

how duped we are
this whole long lot
to chase this dust
treasure lost, forgot.