At the corner Of cement and asphalt avenue.

[Steve]

For what stars shine at the level of earth
That hang or dance `round the naked knees of trees
Or the long voluptuous neck of iris
Waiting for my bankrupt eyes to behold?
No flowers to bloom in the squalor of gloom
Or cattle teat within grip to release a drip
Of milk, no bees to congeal the sweet honey
So it’s known: there is no milk and honey.

Draft pilsner lager
Pale ale yeast and barley
Congestion infection
Are the flecks in our constellations.

Church pews few for our flesh to rest
Though when the bell does roll, over cliffs
Hills and roads, the toll
We pay not coin or prayer, but the beat in our chests.
And to the vespers we only answer
In bacchanalian whispers
That we’ve been told and so we’ve grown older.

Disease filth crime
Grim tales of inebriated grime
An affliction incurable
.

Let go your posture, gaze down below
see the hunter you never knew.
Witness an unbelievable fair,
Of bears sisters and bright dots
Rivers of hair, freckles fractures spectacular
Combustions, instant super-novas
With a no-light-year-wait
If not my eyes can stand
To wait till your sky falls
to the corner of
cement and asphalt avenue.