There's the morning.
eggs coffee and rising sun
and there's the night,
the void filling
storm.
here i am on the verge
of it all,
stable and un-
menaced in an
open market, the blanket
of action, delirious
in attempts and not
half bad-
the steadiness of rocks,
the cadence
of ridges
through air

Sam’s on the corner
of Hormsby standin’ guard
eyes ****** cold
like the wolves icy glare
all the traffic of the world
is the streets he holds
through the thin air
the scene boils
to routine as he
stabs with fingers
flare
scoured is the body
of a fiend who shoots
at the sky
vision veers left as he
locks down freezing eyes
he ***** the pistol
in a shuffle barking
mother nature won’t  you
fall down
and die
slamming fists
crying pointing
at the cars  all
through their lines
I am sam, standing
guard and she can only
fly with my charm
holy creature in his anger
only shouting at the sidewalks
with no harm