Where u goin, samurai...
got some rust to shave
got some snow to brave

Where u goin, samurai...
the streets been indelicate but kind
the guitar's been restrung so many times

and if there's a song in here
then i'll be a cut-throat singer
let melancholy bleed joy
bleed wisdoms from these stories
of when glory waved like serpents,
like children dropped off at school
- taking apart the master's tools
- taking back the friendly fire whose euphemisms flew like stray bullets
hailing down like manhattan cabs;
and they too would never stop for us;
shredding our muscles, they pressed themselves close to our bones
to whisper
"hello"
and a
"how are you?" -
the last thing remembered before the back of my skull hit concrete
was not genius or profound -
just a mix of colors that looked like the sky dancing into the trees
and then a whiteness that overtook the retinas
and a sound like bees
calmly making honey
overseen by a patient queen

Where u goin, samurai...
a breast plate of ancient steel
a chest full of nicotine
a fist clutch of lovers' numbers

on a continent that laughs every thousand years