Long Legged Chuckster

Long Legged Chuckster,
A stranger, trickster, friend,
Hermes winged and masked,
The messenger of Gods.
"Hello", you said,
And I do miss you still.

We should get out, yeah:
From under our skins,
Our fates, sharp icicles
Circling the universe of hearts,
From dead pretentious spaces,
From pains and memories,
And chaos, nonsense, slums
Of our existence; we should.

Give me your hand,
And out we go...
Through fits and turns of outrageous fortune,
Winged shoes, masked faces,
Hand in hand...
Bodies-Souls together,
Heads up, heads on,
The messengers of Gods
And their soldiers,
Interpreters of their wills and whims,
Performers of their treats and tricks,
The carriers of their duties,
The winged Semigods,
And dogs their, too.

In the fields we'll lay,
Dead or alive,
Contented or not,
Or disappointed,
Or point not made...
Or plain broke in spirit,
Or still going strong,
The messengers of Gods.


M.N.
2.20.17