Frozen in thought . . .
the silver gray moon bends
the sun's will toward an earthly
gravel grave in the Walker County
strip pit .

It was only yesterday . . .
when the Cougar Eliminator
prowled the highways of disappearing
white stripes seeking a crescent city moon that lays naked in the bending arms of it's river lover

"Drive !" , he said . . .
so I hit the pedal hard spinning tires
and burning up the moments in haste
that I would someday regret throwing
to the stars

Like a wolf howls at the moon . . .
we howled at our youth . . .
so far from home unaware we were truly all alone in bent light of folly

The horizon cradled the moon . . .  
slipping beyond the bridges of our possibilities and I am thinking of Macbeth blowing out his candles

"Drive !" , he said . . .
life is a stage , a highway going forward measured by our distance divided by time we are so defined

I have driven to the moon . . .
collected sunbeams and bent the light
and drove back howling with a midnight's voice warm in the south by southwest winds

So I will drive on . . .