[seeking. I Come Electric For Want; A Slipstream] Poem by bradley blue jay phipps

Seeking. I come electric for want; a slipstream
of providence like dead cactus. Baggage that feeds
in the traveling near desert highways, and the
abandoned halls of houses who long for paint and
the foot falls of a child's joy; the walls are hoarse
in the dry. That sound remembered. Heard...
One notes the contrails of my father's flight. Dead, too.
Flash frozen and brittle atmospherically.

Baggage that gnaws looking out over the dust on my
dashboard for the need; my manifest desire of the west
seems a dream dying. Baggage that weighs in the dark like
the neighbor's porch light in the distance, where rests
the reflection on my glasses. The red numbers of time
flashing reminders that with tomorrow, the dullness that
is want for mud creeps ever closer.

Bar dreams in Snyder's Farmington poem, but north, really.
Durango. Beer or shots or smooth glasses of bourbon on
rocks bought with reflections and a white surrender chip
to circle the grip of the Animas River flowing round
the place. A cemetery to broken promises, birthdays
unremembered and deadlines passed with a dullness embraced.

I must, at least, get up and start the car attempting to
go. One snow day in a row is the limit of tolerance. Time
fleets red glowing in the canyons of the windshield. I can
smell the wood smoke crusting, brittle as my glasses. I am
far from home, but I am sober.