Rites and Passages

By Jimmy Benjamin

Today, I am far away. My dress shoes are on and My tracks are laid bare before me, Breeching me. I’m mulling things over Its a form of abasement or cloture. See, I’ve come to see that all that was resounding, In hues so clear and magnificent seem Perverse, and worse, mulish As the drivelling residue that cakes upon a pan. I think I can just make it out But the pale sandbank bedims the August spruce. My motor function slips again. I’m sure you too Have been reduced to Gravol Life’s fire turns tepid When pleasure is Afforded in innocuous doses Extant through dregs only. Long then is the night’s vigil But at dawn let us welcome the wash, Foamy and wintry as it draws near Seldom unearthed yet worthwhile for it is raw. Of this I’m certain. Talk to me, then, of the passion and Order within us all. Of companionship in Rampant souls so ablaze against winter air. Reject all that humbles us, be coalescent, Be unbridled, be pure.