Radical Posture

Box it up and mail me out with the soul in the soles that stayed afloat
at least they are guaranteed for life,not the sand or dirt from the streets
not the beauty of the people they have met along the way
conversation or story
I bring the mutual aid boy scout badges home to the auld man from the people I meet and he puts them on his walker
those we keep and box up next to the medallions of my grandfather and uncles who built the bridges and tunnels of this city
the belief in the bigger picture was always the lesson,horrible situations handled with grace and style
work tied with the heart and laces of the ground covered
is this an ode to my boots and this city?
a song to the people who have toiled in the same way?
I sing my boots eclectic and Whitman can buy us a drink
They will be replaced along with the spirits of new days to come
different century
Same soul
same fight
Except I will have two pairs
this time

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Not So Rocket Gibralta

When they find my remains in the nearest future it will baffle the lucky diggers
all the zippered obvious road map bumps along the spine leading to the hip
modern extinct man buried in factory boots
wondering if i was cold blooded
how the spine curved the way it did with such narrow shoulder
16 ton ritual burial
thrown on the pile with the rest of the 5’o clock bones
i pick my own funeral hymns daily as i look down on myself joining in with the rest of the passersby
losing more thoughts in morning coffee than some have in a day
these tattered boots feel more than the human traffic moving by
so we just keep walking
hoping for a 101 proofed viking funeral
instead of leaving a handful of people wondering