Surfing

i woke this morning

fearing everything in this

human coated world is a scam

too much Craigslist or

hope born of Bernie too soon

Trumped… in the wee dark hours

a short poem already written

on my Moses tablet preserved inside

on some invisible eternal DNA

told me about this insatiable

longing calling out from behind

the snow covered San Juan peaks

saying, “Yes, it is real. this splendid reality

you live is love chords streaming

light from the other lovers here and gone

i’d say hold on, but i have seen the folly

of grasping, and know the wisdom of

letting go just as the tidal wave hits   hope

is no good here, only the knowing of experienced faith

can ride this wave barefoot surfing wet and free

 

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