THE EYELESS NIGHT WILL ROB YOU OF YOUR ROAD by Charles Plymell

Jewels of nature are no longer found along the
roadside, no scraps of tin from ancient tinker man
they buried now by the tossed Budweiser can
and  reflective shards of bottle moonlight glint
distant bulb kitchen light alone on prairie sod
like a lantern flicker in the corner of the night.

Rusty diner neon signs gone with waitress love
an apron in roadside rubble cactus blossom rot
lost kiss against numb thruway battered cheek
the gas attendant gone, the sunflowers tip their
heads to sundown and pack the night mysteries
of the universe so tight a flirt of coffee cup drips.

No thought given void and matter if truth did beckon
words stuck to vipers tongues ready to strike if
banned from new vocabularies of the smart phone.

The denver sandwich now the western omelet
and menus the extent of word consciousness
of dead walking in human form ghostly rhythms
of the earth leaking like contents of a broken jar
one thing no longer illuminates another dead end.