Before the Pelican Cloud

Black rock mountaintop
Shirts off
Wood cracked into pit
Green flute
Tobacco prayer
Sun sky
At the point it dissolves
Beyond aquamarine hills

The clowns are not even pinpricks below
Just the buzz of flies and dirtbikes
And distant dogs crying
For the freedom of the coyote

At sunset the crack pipe pen
Boiling the sides for resin
And a distant industrial fire like a smoke signal