For My Brother Val

My brother Val turns another year older today,
from fighting as kids
with bamboo swords,

to trekking the mountains of California,
the years do not shave,
the wars are all wrong,

yet we have traveled here,
me with words to battle,
you with paint to stab,

we don’t take prisoners,
and we won’t be taken alive,
you take the high road

and I take the low road,
dragons to fight, hot coals to walk on,
Apache arrows to pull from the shoulder,

happy birthday brother
if you wanna paint the sun dumb and blue
I’ll write from the middle of words outward

till the meaning lies at both ends,
never put your horse hair brushes down,
too many Roman roads to build and curse.