too true to believe
all the belief systems
over all the eons
none have worked
not one deity has answered
not even to confirm that
we are a lost cause
even before we are born
the odds are stacked
the algorithms are insensate
there is nothing
and that does not answer back
even nothing isn’t it
is it
congratulations ~ great poem
unsure
the emotions work through
the lines that are knot
straight forward
are not rational
but the end is ubiquitous
in that we all end up there
different roads from different
starting pains
arrive underfoot to be ground
in tears and dust
an american poet in india
he describes the heat
(from the other side of the world)
i glance outside
and it is pissing down
i assume the melt is leaking
(from the other side of the world)
two hands drying slowly
shake on it
dusk
the crows collecting the
cackles of their day
gossiping joys away away
branches darkening now
selecting night’s perches
as the stars blink on and off
the gentle dream of a breeze
tomorrow is roosting in now
moonrise sunrise
moonrise sunrise
dare we stir the breath
of this eternal way
peeing in Rupert’s brook
if i should fly
think only this of me
he went for a pee
in some corner of a forlorn field
that is forever tinkleland
the planners planned a crescent
sadness is stoned
in the walls between them
the residents and the passersby
arcs with two ends
and no beginning
for the residual are reticent
the tenements a testament
to the planners failure to plan
for a plan B that it is plain to see
is absolutely necessary for the
stationary that are left standing still
