A little bit of loneliness
fills in the blank spots
and the sails open
like shields;
tear you across and into
Your neck clutches
your head;
your eyes pulled thin
over the waves
Years go by
You go by
You recognize you,
side by side
Like two drunkards
or pop stars
you walk down the lane,
ransacking every minute
for as long as your bodies click
I'm at the tail end
of times that are a'changing
and nobody discusses
what's on the walls,
though crammed with important works
Death is in the works,
we're aware
If it was only as normal
and practical
as the pandemic funeral pyres
in Delhi,
so consoling,
putting death into perspective,
stripping it
of its obsessive self indulgance;
just a bum down the line;
death is just a bum down the line,
a free ride of gossip
down everybody's line,
the tail of a fish flashing
and disappearing in the stream
I carve my past onto a clay totem,
but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth
Something isn't the matter
That can bother anyone