Like Breugel's Icarus
my brother Michael
dropped into the depths of the sea
unnoticed
Born at the bottom
of a crater of the moon
the sweetest foundling
since creation
His swaddling clothes
were denim and the blues
his pillow
a bottle of rye
This sweet soul
lived half a life
in halfway houses
and cheap motels
reeking of cigarettes
reeling from the *****
When he punched his ticket
on the midnight train to eternity
no one was surprised
I arranged the cremation
a fire that burned
more than one life
I gathered his ashes
and set out
for the crest of the Sierra Nevada
Alone
with my memories,
his ashes
and the cold stone
of those adamant heights
and then east
through the wastes of Nevada
the endless expanse
of the basin and range
A pilgrimage, of sorts
dedicated to nothing
and no one
Just the upthrust range
the solemn and self-absorbed peaks
the dessicated pine
and a wind
that scoured the soul.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
Like Breugel's Icarus
my brother Michael
dropped into the depths of the sea
unnoticed
Born at the bottom
of a crater of the moon
the sweetest foundling
since creation
His swaddling clothes
were denim and the blues
his pillow
a bottle of rye
This sweet soul
lived half a life
in halfway houses
and cheap motels
reeking of cigarettes
reeling from the *****
When he punched his ticket
on the midnight train to eternity
no one was surprised
I arranged the cremation
a fire that burned
more than one life
I gathered his ashes
and set out
for the crest of the Sierra Nevada
Alone
with my memories,
his ashes
and the cold stone
of those adamant heights
and then east
through the wastes of Nevada
the endless expanse
of the basin and range
A pilgrimage, of sorts
dedicated to nothing
and no one
Just the upthrust range
the solemn and self-absorbed peaks
the dessicated pine
and a wind
that scoured the soul.
