I reckon my Meccan revelations will come
walking along Rivanna subdivision tracks,
thoughts pointed east, boots tapping boom bap, heartbeat drum
synchronized to river crows cawwing as freight stacks
clack-clack past. I reckon my Meccan most divine
inspirations will come somewhere between Gladstone
and Bremo, perhaps that milepost sixty-nine
near Strathmore yard, crossing over to be alone
on those solitary Seven Islands, soaking
up Universal truth at my sub-atomic
level, drunk of heart off mystical love cloaking
mundane existence with fractal astro-logic
adding magnificence to senseful solitude.
My Meccan revelations are James River viewed.
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