Reentry

Let's workshop this poem about a feel-good action of "fuck capitalism and fuck egoism and all that" that a man later regrets in the comedown from an entheogenic summit

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Reentry 

Dirty nails cradling it
at heart for hours 
in “oneness with the native
maker,” he reburied

the petrified jug (valued
beyond a SoHo loft)
in the rufous sands
of its canyon cave—

unable to find it,
for the violent life of him,
in the psilocybin descent
of digging dawn.

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