someone tried to distract the backpages of a writer
where he could not hold back the attack they threw
he just built words into bones and flesh for the homes
dry bone canyons from the mouth of open blue skies
rewinding the find to be just & absolute mountain time
questions melted away from the decay of reaching roots
they drove the thirst from the mind into rich vine soil
searching the reason behind patronized thinking sign coils
unlike the rule laid down by the law soaked verse
choking on the thirst of empty pocket coats to rain
all the amounts of growing pains burned into the reach
like the leaf on its last flickering tremble in the wind
the words seemed born again and again into the reason
shaping the face of this man into just what he really is
a distorted abstract frequency map of the space between this
backs break Nates crack after the last page contracts into the next
where voices echo right before the words become permanent
to be the word is the joy in the search before finding out why
looking beyond what this is to fill in the vote of artforms
perhaps yours is a different shade or fabric of stormy greys
it could be the tool under the rusty car seat united again
with the nuts and bolt corrosion forgotten in the talent you own
like the raging winds of a mountain being born in your eye stone
behind the mind and working overtime in the sleeping subconcious
brave and bruised beyond what the opinion armies shoot through
the man finds it all coming out with calm from the tips of his fingers
to the fight for the question gripping growth answers even tighter
someone tried to distract the backpages of a writer
