San Jose

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I kept Him in rearview,


those eyes of mine


like to drift and dance


and remember romance


in patchwork forms,


I kept up speed,


up the hill


around corners


of tangly meadows,


vineyards of posterity


produced atop


catacombs of


other years, times,


places, and people


that held languages


and fables and


knowledge of their own


that served their purpose


for no other reason


than for the season


of being.


His eyes watching mine,


atop centuries of memory,


and oh how I couldn't forget


what it was like meet Him


amongst this harsh world,


in saintly retrospect


He tried to forgive,


while I tried to forget


and all in all


it was the beauty of the fall


that kept my knees from buckling


and keeps the trees from tumbling,


and wind from roaring down this road


of wanted dissonance,


I drove past this land,


yes I drove passed this foothill


of memory,


escaping from Him


and everything he stood for


amongst the twilight


of His sacrifice.

Created: Jun 24, 2012

Tags: independent poetry

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