southland

into the slipstream of consciousness to ride the ethereal wave of dreams,
into the gloaming, where nothing true is as it seems.
perfume from gutters scent santa anas of hope and desire,
the fog of morning muffles the leaving steps,
as the misty hills smolder with passion and forgotten desire.

and the southland shimmers silently, protecting all dreams

sounds of distant saxophones snake through sunset’s bend,
exploding in metallic glitter against the motorhead at rainbow’s end.
arcs of covenants slowly descend out of the east,
poets, prophets and broken-hearted believers
have come to dance in the belly of the feast.

and the southland shimmers silently, enveloping all dreams.

white line ribbons wrap around celluloid streets,
as born-again madonnas rope-dance solo to pavement beats.
crucifixion, salvation, addiction and redemption.
the end of the line is the beginning to time,
according to one’s perception.

it is all according to one’s perception

and the southland shimmers silently, creating all dreams.