“We all need a promised land”
Carole King, “Been to Canaan”
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the lyric tickles
like the worst itch imaginable
and consequently consuming
demands this
old boy pay attention

it’s so true, it’s so devious,
we strike our temples
for failing to see the obvious,
throw, roll
our bodies on the damp ground,
like the dead of whom
it’s said
will roll to the
promised land
when the messiah will come(1)

but meantime
we thrash about
not knowing
what
is
a promised land,
let alone how to get there

perhaps
the promised land
is within the
states of our mind;
need to travel there,
just prepare
to jump, dive deeper
than living a life
of ice skating upon the surface
of wasted existence's of
grinding grinning
day in, day out

unroll our sleeping bags,
our ruksak pillow,
examine the stars locations,
when morning breaks,
pick up you leavings
behind,
and roll
roll ourselves up,
onto, can~do,
Canaan