Let us gather.
Let us be true to.
Line up and count off
by fours. The road
is long. Stardust, no.
Be careful of the mountains.
Anyone can lose his breath.
Crack goes the thunder.
Rain then sun then
rain again. In the beginning
was or if. Will be.
Some people become callous.
Profanity o.k.
Holding hands, nobody does that.
When you reach the desert.
The moon does not figure.
Wind, but no hair.
I don’t know anything
about day or night.
Try for a peaceful ending.
In recent poems you’ve been salting them with quotidian sounding snippits as you do here, as in “line up by fours” and “Profanity Ok.” I want to trim away the “by fours” and the “profanity OK” because in this poem, you really do achieve a kind of vatic tone that works. I think, sometimes, you are afraid of being taken too seriously? The quotidian is spice and not style IMOH.