no — not ever

no — not ever.
the horror,
the terror,
of loneliness
is nothing, but
for the insight
that it is
ontological.

blue-gray city,
looking across
the harbor,
the steel,
sky, and waves
all seem
the same color.

stern faces,
serious adults,
so concerned about
some result,
so willing
to punish to
make it happen.

a hawk’s wings,
against sky blue,
a brown, red,
blue, and white
camouflaged
cornucopia of
multi-colored corn.

a proud, war-worn
face, 1940s cropped
hair, jaw raised
defiantly, vainly.

it’s mine!
no it isn’t!
you’ve had enough!
no i haven’t!

on the edges
of the party,
there was
a funeral.

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after a broken wedding

half awake
half asleep
wandering through
empty old streets
cannons
of the shuddering past
sunlight flickering
waves waving past
a girl smiling
something
like all the others
mellifluous voices
and eyes
dance before her
a drink too many
a phone call missed
exhaustingly worried thoughts
unceasing
forgetting
or trying to forget
an angry other
the pressure
of mothers
sad loneliness
all around

post-9/11

it’s hard enough
to live
mindful
of personal decay
and eventual death
in this academic
stress culture
bubble
without
having
to worry about
awakening
to the agony
of sarin
smallpox
cyanide
or anthrax
in the air
or water,
walking down the street
waking up
is horrifyingly
unknowable
and uncontrollable
enough,
i fear that
i have not
the wherewithal
to do
mentally straining
school work
and still
keep the
mental knots
of self
untied enough
to handle
sudden death.

time forgets…

time forgets
how to speak
how to love
how to think
images sleepily
manifest
the moment
drunkenly
stumbling
into crassness
or beauty
worship
o worship
for none
but the hell of the
boiler-room brain
glared back at
cursed at
imprisoned
oranges
gliding
tempting
commands
accidents perpetual
recompense
for the twisted
sadism
of the non-smilers
closed closet
dark room
dark cave
singly lit
and lounging
intensely
intent
upon some such thing
as gardens
or war fields
rippling ripping
your poor sickness
of a mind
made green
render blue skies
infinite
watched atop
the firs
all of the
private things
of love’s rolling over
daisied
focused
it’s easy
too easy
intoxicating
benevolence
not captured
really
in tin cans
slogans
and phraseology
one minute
a thousand
of habits
and denials
i’m forgetting
slowly
soon
i hope
i’ll forget.