a man with a grill beside a colorado creek [poem]

his eyes amber green orange and yellow
his mouth soft and brown
so shiny as he spoke to me from behind a grill
El Salvadorian golden teeth, german nose
hooked with a mole on the right, a mirror to mine

speaking hot and dry along the colorado creek
telling me of magic, he’s painting us a story
of a gardener, our age, was cursed with visions, feelings and sensations
of burning, like flames, on his handsome skin

for 30 days, he willed the gods to save him
sat under a waterfall, pounding in his mind, begging of the water
to offer daggers of protection, kill and shield the noise
bring peace silence stillness—a life in the mundane
freedom from the chains of knowing

it’s been 16 years of quiet from the fire in his mind

        but never, ever, in his sleep
        each night he opens a door
        to the purple blue light sky
        elders circle boom of energy, no form
        three hundred of them welcome friends at the fire

eyes open in our morning world, unconcious, hard, and dense
        in spaces of our own
        we try to touch

i ask him if he asks them things
        my ego want to know
doesn’t he a responsibility to tell me

        did he go back to sleep?

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