Smashed in Phoenix circa 1988

I came across some old poetry of mine.  Trust me, some of it will never see the light of day.  But here’s a short one I always kind of liked.  

Smashed in Phoenix

The pigeon-toed fool walked a fine line that night.

That night the lights flared in his eagle eye.

Strong he stood, staring vulturously into the eye of the fire.

Waiting, as if the ashes were to form into some apparation.

An apparition that would rise up, fly away and be forgotten forever.

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