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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.