Jared Avila

And it came to pass on the morrow

Look around your lonely America,
        the merry-go-round carnival deaths
        in the wasteland desolate rows—God bless!
Look, I was in that angel city sky silence—
	that vulgar cold—Monterey—
	the alleyways—the melting hills—
	& I was with the plowmen & reapers—
visions I saw of California: the Inquisition—
	the golden gates—Solomon’s pool—
	divided lines—wings to fly—
	I’ll die in polluted lands—
Adam’s children clung to pennies
	yet, the Lord smote us equal
                in all his common glory.
Visions! visions! look to me through 
	with a wilderness heart
	in desolate California visions—
look further! I was chasing the blues
	in Athenian groves—in room 109
	swallowed up on a moondust shore
	sniffing inhaling & drunk &
	impaling my heart rhythms
	feeling alone—cold & testifying—
look around your lonely America
	& I’ll find your eyes golden
	with candle flames in them—
with castles in them—ashes buried in them—
	with crimson sweaters & your laughing
	silent courageous—laughing gracefully—
I was with you in your lonely America,
	in the dancing voices of California,
	in the mountains burned with fire—
	with darkness—clouds—thick darkness.

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