as a young man thumbing the road I met an older man in nevada who remembered driving across the US without roads or a drivers license. finding gas was a bitch.

walk with me
across this land
covered in
fallen crosses
talk with me
where the rhythm
of a dreaming earth
sun warms our
naked feet
cry with me
over the open graves
of children
of all the starving children
we ignore
carry my eyes
when i lie in silence
that you might
still talk the dreams
of a walking man
draped within a poet’s treason
and
remember the season
where time died
tied to reason and lies.

- jude