lowly

It’s out in the everyday

Where the everyman sits with his head in his shades

When the day meets its day

Under a sunset over the mountains displayed

I sit

When I can sit

In a peaceful way

Can you hear them

The helicopters 

Coming from the mountains over in the outer graves

The great Apaches 

Lugging a sweet disorder over the Americas’ grey and handsome face

Handsome as my cancer

Handsome as my age

Do you hear them

Droning a blasé wave 

Always in my way

And I can’t tell always

If it’s from the TV 

Or if they’re coming over the pasture 

My grace dissolves into a reaction of time and space

All the time I waste

I listen as their blades

Somehow always sweep over me

As I face up to the eternal enormity

Swallowed by the sun by day 

And belched out in an array of spangled decay by moon spell

As the crimson sways

I watch with my fingers interlaced

The giant sleeps on his spine

Just as I

And he's slept for a very long time

As long as the digits under my eyes

He dreams of birds and white clouds

And when he sees the summertime

I see his belly rise

Every afternoon

Just as mine

As the propellers pull a new kingdom over the horizon

Pushing the old ones aside

I watch in silence

A wind so loud the ears go quiet

They buzz 

And they buzz

And I do not bat an eye

As their propellers pass me by