"Mills of Karma" (New poem, 2021/10/28)

There's a story I once heard
about a man climbing buildings
for fun
not a professional
just a hero
why was he dressed like that
stark naked except for a superhero cap
on top of Mount High Rise
he was a prophet in the old days
choosing valleys and lowlands
his new hobby
made him feel the bone
stuck firmly in his throat
acid god of death doves

there's a story he once heard
about a man writing poems
for fun
not a professional
just a writer
why was he distracted by the ghosts of sculpted dusk
and jazz songs on the radio
he was a prophet, too
but those days are long gone
on top of Mount High Rise
they met
both high as fuck on juices of life
lead and petrol and vodka
scum marijuana chicks

why were they both women in this new tale
is unsure even to me
the sculptor who's trying to make his own
Mills of Karma
in the meadow
below our heroes
pedestals for their egos
egos for their debt
and debt of death and birth in the lowlands

we only dream of low
we are free in dreams only
like Lee Hazlewood once said
and journalists are mad horses
give them too much bread
and they choke
give them fire and they beg for a pool
in the Mills of Karma
never constructed
high on the Mount of devastation