on the day of the double funeral I stand
waiting for the rest of me to die,
I am that I am but I harbor a bad disease.
i should be anywhere and be doing anything other
than what i am.
because before Abraham was i am
standing in the empty quarter
reading a funeral manual on the
day of the double sky burial.
i’m poisoned off my pouch of yesterday’s mana.
gums are bleeding this is yesterday’s daily bread.
men cannot live off bread alone
and the jackrabbit horde is coming home
our own locust plague for a new Sahara.
i stand with a hangman’s fracture
lost on the old sermons in the sand.
following my family’s footsteps sadly in the wrong direction,
lost among the marking rocks.
snow leopards of the black blizzard and
my poison pouch of mana.
drowning in the fires we cook a stray dog
reaping all the whirlwinds I sound a 12 foot Tibetan horn
on the day of a double funeral -
perched in the dwelling of the solitude.

My hands filled with magic
I wave to a new world
I saw a Shaman
in the mirror
He is perching on the snowy mountains
and swimming through the ice cold rivers of Ōtautahi

We're Chanting
a duo in motion
my magician
my spirit
my mana
his cloak covers me in gold

The drums in my heart are deafening
we're bound in vines and ruby wood
air sails through the gaps
her whisper brings birds on the wind
To my feet

I am nature
I am all
Blood bonds
and stories
I am the clock counting down

Giggles.
Grins.
Spikes.
Spurs.
Thunder.
Dogs.
Pandas.
Cute things.
Ramen.
Spells.
Be our guest.

The Script.

And these are what makes the Kite
That's the soul of it,
Its blood flows with every letter written,
Its heart pumps with every fantasy created,

And the breeze it glides on...
Is you,
The lightness,
The sweetness,
The eyes I'm yet to see.

**"Same"