September 29, 2021 at 11:29 am Leave a comment

certain dreams have, yes, failed

but all is

at one angle simple progression. life

is interpretation.

there is no

i find no

ending-place, or respite.

that sun-tortured city i wrote

has become mine, and i wander

its waterless passage-ways

to find that known

end. but there is

no end, no grand finale, with

curtains’ closing, rather

a fading (known in the moment

as gradual, though

in retrospect both sudden

and timeless).

both braveness and endurance,

as weakness

are often times’, not actors’.

Entry filed under: Chapbook.

0 A Personal Update

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