SPADES

SPADES

by the end
of this poem
             (pert
bottom of the page)

all will be peachy
locked
   and fully loaded
under control

will have
star-trekked myself
into futures

held every debt
to account

gone full-bore
swallow-tail ouroboros
disappeared
    up into my own head

there to sojourn, as
failed practitioners are won’t

finding he
who is always with me
what
    the thunder said or not

clean-combed, well
brushed
     holding the
purgatory password

and
   when it comes to
the nature of sly artistry

soul truth
    in diamonds

raw wisdom in spades