Flight Of Quetzalcoatl Poem by nathan martin

stones in the heavens which do not migrate
but crumble down to the earth.

cortez crumbling...crumbling futher down.

playing dice on the street corner with all
the other half shaded stone icons.

mother mary in the summer heat
melts in a red dress of wax across
the square cobbled plaza..

her head lifted up looking up into the sky.

quiker than a soul flight burning radon red,
the plumed serpent god flies over tin
metal and cardboard canopies.

with his passport in his back pocket he heads
north searching for a little luck.

i saw him once you know, he was standing
very still on one leg in a small garden
outside a trailor park in woodland washington.

he came in the year of an el-nino and landed
next to a two-tone painted parked el camino.

the sun glissened off of the two of them
in a fantastic brilliance.

return of the dorsoflexion criss crossed sun.
return of the meso-mythic pinnicle..