The Idiot Anthem
It was a time of great fanfare, unfair
to many, loud and full of old wind.
We stepped out onto the balcony
as the motorcade went by.
In the crowd we saw a premonition of
our own funerals, each
of us distinctly, individual nightmares.
Those who stayed inside
were dying inside, their words as lax
as exhalations. We breathed in
the ichor of the age, and, in so doing,
were lumped together,
lock-stepped, versed in our own dis-
solution, riding the coaster
just for the drops and loops, invested
in our own demise, our souls drying,
singing until the end, the idiot anthem.
* * *
Alone as I Wanna Be
The candle I placed on the
windowsill only throws
light inward. The opening
is made of mourning.
Day turns to night & back to
day but the black dog always
returns. I pet him because
we have a deal. He scares
me to death & I feed him
from the dishware of my bones.
* * *
The New Project
A lost day at 59
is not the
same as a lost day
earlier. Every
blank space
cries out to be
filled, every book
read, every
movie seen. I
step out onto
the pier and the
water seems
so like a path I
am tempted
to go further. In-
stead the moon-
light says through
the mouth of
a trout: You are
golden. There
are mysteries still
to be recorded.
There are things
only you know.
So I forgive
myself and, on the
way home, pick
up an ax and an
adze. It’s getting
serious, this project.