the works of America’s greatest living poemetrist, alive or otherwise.
perhaps a cull
of the human race
is what we need,
what the planet needs.
i can think….
i want my life
to be my life,
not the plaything
of my memories
and history….
if i live 10,000 years
that’s a massive human life,
yet as good as nothing
against the billions of years
that are the earth or the universe.
this is one of those mornings.
nothing particularly good or bad.
nothing to celebrate or mourn.
the world continues to suffer;
the bad guys still cause misery.
my friend
looks at me
and wonders,
why can’t you
just decide….
it is good,
or at least
convenient,
that i live
alone….
“apologies: a love song.”
god, i wish
i had more
than just a title!
that’s as far….
i have known
for a long time
that,
in the end,
what my life…
my world, my life
are never good enough.
i understand
the evolutionary forces
behind the urge….
it’s not like
viruses & cancers
and all the rest
are trying to
kill you….
i can mourn them,
the 100,00 dead.
John Prine & Annie Glenn
the many dead
unknown to me….
should is a
particularly cruel word.
must & will
remove choice
by force….
my super-powers
are beyond belief.
BELIEVE IT!
i am not one,
but two, count ‘em, two!
how to commit suicide
without dying?
the way an official
can resign their position
in protest….
i wake each morning
to the press
of my entire life
on my mind,
my first thought….
