The taco tasted

crunched cold like tacos should in

hot shells of ecstasy

lettuce meat cheese refreshes

the mind the tongue

the fires stamped out from today


So taking a turn from the heartfelt towards the absurd.  Been mixing clay and dust and blood to make sturdy bricks for too long.  Makes me tired.  Makes me long for the irreverent. And, as dryer lint… sadly so… the irreverent is as see through and weighty as air…. nothing with substance…. 

So do we make this conclusion that there IS no yin nor yang? It’s a myth like everything else? A myth that is written at the end of something? At the end…. at the death of something….. written for comfort….. for constellation? Written in drippy supplication?

Who knows.

All that I do know…. is that I’m bound to write more taco haikus.