a liar in love
a crow in the cold
beginnings ascend
from the carcass of folly
what remains is the will
what survives is what
was there all along
courage is knowing

America you
you are mine
my place
my stuff
                            
                            you are where i belong
                            in your belly and your
                            fire between us is a devil
                            a ***** and saint
                            you're america you are
                            me, we are a thing
                            greasy and clean
                                                                                   grass and leaves
                                                                                   and plumes o' glowing
                                                                                   smoke in the fair
                                                                                   and the smooth
                                                                                   enchanting lips
                                                                                   of night(you've got
                                                                                   her dirt under your
                                                                                   nails you've got
                                                                                   pretty caked deep
                                                                                   under your nails
                                                                                   )you're faces lines
                                                                                   of them cheek2cheek
                                                                                   pressed and biting
                                                                                   loving and *******
                                                                                   you're america
                                                                                                                   (and that's why i love you)

"Death interrupts life;
it calls on everyone of us",
Unexpected yet long awaited.
Don't they say?It's not the destination
but the journey on which you go.
That would make us all,
but travelers
wandering a lonesome road.
Is it lonesome?
And what is lonely?
Have I never felt these thing
if I have friends,
people.
And yet I am, ultimately.
For, when you go, you go on your own.
Or arrive
       -whichever it may be...