You must read this first line as a proud son
before you may appreciate this second. For no profound reason

I want less & less to take my terrain back & make it good. I mean,
perhaps, a person is only as holy as the soil & sweat on their brow. Son

nada. Do you hear that? A composition of movements. Footings
to find. Be violently you, so I’m homesick. I reckon I’ve been a clouded sun. 

A sad-to-say son. I swallowed moons & fed myself to desire.
I lied in misunderstanding of who you were looking for. This is how a son

can seek asylum in a slip of himself. A man that don’t pick up
his shit. Locks eyes with abeyance. & yes, I’m a coward son.

I kissed with eyes opened & made a man die for me. I knelt
but not to wash his feet. A man died for me, & I allowed sons

of sons to teach me how many licks it takes to make a body bleed.
I (la)meant the love I sold for nickels. I reckon I’m nobody’s crowned son.

I listened to the chimes that achieved the songs I never could. I dug a hole,
made a lake, & soaked in my sin: blue brindle of water’s cold. How a person

should return home. Step one: get lost. Step two: too many steps. I guess
wander the wood then vamoose on outta there, still animal. An avowed son’s 

still an animal. One who wants less & less to wear the horseshoe
of assurance but still race with the ponies. One that sees each mound of sun

without ever touching. Moving on past, glancing in like an open door.
Making eye contact with stillness like a recondite thing. Bowing son

arms wide at the welcome mat, reckless in devotion. Less wreck
& more light through the confessions lying in the foyer. No doubt son, 

story’s beginning is axiomatic so its ending should be calculable. Starts
by hanging onto every world. Works its way into a shroud of sun

down. Then back into the room it locked itself out of. Back home,
where trouble ain’t a name for a boy like me, but the loud lesson

you go looking for in the demon eyes’d night. & I’m looking
as I’ve always been looking. Vagabond on familiar grounds. Son

of deer in head light. Of principles of repentance: long drive, block of ice,
double shot, love & be loved. Of these weather-worn haunts. Son

ick then boom. The kind of light that ignites a house to fire. That kills you
more than once. The reclaiming of a beginning. The becoming a proud son.