Mojo Hand

you’ve spent a lifetime chasing paper, seeking validation

a closet full of certificates, documents, degrees and licenses

that define who you are, give you permission to practice, drive,

drink beer, shoot guns, go fishing, camp in the open, march in the street,

marry, have children, travel across borders, own houses and cars,

to show where you’re going and where you’ve been,

to prove you were born and that you exist

you bear them like a talisman, you wear them like a mask,

like armor.


you’ve spent a lifetime running just to run

from coast to coast across continents

halfway around the world and back again

climbing mountains swimming oceans flying through clouds

looking out there 

for love sex magic redemption to fill that hole in your heart

it’s something that not even

sixteen shooters and a Siberian shaman

could fix.


where do you go from here?

it’s the fourth quarter, the ninth inning, the final act

match point, injury time, the shank of the evening

show down – buck-a-throw, one-eyed jacks and suicide kings are wild

no timeouts left, no do-overs, take backs or gimme puts

government, religion, politics, all the money in the world

so much smoke and mirrors

put it up on craigslist, but mention that slackers, tweakers, weasels and whiners

need not apply


you were a hamster in a wheel, a dancing bear, a bird in a gilded cage

all that chasing butterflies and rainbows, the Holy Grail and the American Dream

dialing for dollars, texting your vote and extolling the virtues

of sex and drugs and rock&roll, all that’s over

ring the mission bell, saddle the painted pinto, thank the radiant angels

send a letter to the poohbah, but you know what he’ll say

the answer you’ve been seeking

has been right here

all along