February 26, 2011
By JakeRosendale GOLD, Hayden, Colorado
JakeRosendale GOLD, Hayden, Colorado
10 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows"-Bob Dylan

Crossroads are a particular

kind of place where mythology

and actuality combine,

mix and dance with your shadow.

Limitlessness has a name

and social security number

in your restlessness

and your ambitiousness.

I've performed in cafes and on street corners,

In bookshops and depots,

woods and public restrooms

with the junkyard profits

desperately clutching to my clothes,

refusing my money

but begging for my love.

But now I am at the crossroads.

The smoke from my soul

comes in, forces me to turn around,

turn around turn around,

and see the faces,

so many different faces,

all those who have

loved me,

mocked me,

befriended me,





spit in my eye

called me what they thought I was.

So many faces.

So many eyes full of dreams and ire.

How many would I come to know again?

Who would become fortune tellers



cops preachers

mathematicians builders destroyers

soldiers of fortune

businessmen liars or junkyard prophets?

Who will become like smoke in the fog,

slightly hazy lost-boys

off to never-never land,

never to be seen or heard from

except for the cries that whisper

the time?

So many faces.

What will I be to them?

A companion







an I knew him when

a face that looks at their back

at the crossroads,

a wisp of smoke?

I turn again,

turn turn,

a cymbal shot

pushes me forward,

left and right,

but I can never go back behind.

Johanna whispers

Even salvation must get old.

I know she must be correct,

at least as far as I can turn my head.

The right is barred,

the left is guarded by the beasts,

the faces hum a dirge or a lullaby,

I straighten my jacket,

pack my self into a slip bag,

and blow away with the smoke.

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