sitting down and taking notes on skull hill
I’m not about to stop whatever it is I’ve been doing
skating or stumbling or sleepwalking through
the course of ordinary events
history books never did get it quite right
whether written on walls
or stone slabs or paper or clouds
the best stories are told by the campfire
be they fact or fiction
held to the strictest of standards
handed down from one generation to the next
here I sit alone atop my very own calvary
looking down and shaking
loose the cobwebs
wondering how many more men must die
for the sake of a single solitary hill
january two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
