Of course I am
how can I not be
terminally urged as I am toward the sea
when the aching breeds
tempests and honest tornadoes
how can I not be
this knee jerk reaction
to past midnight poems
refuse dropped at the door
at dawn
how can it not be
soldier of ancient roman regret
crossing with me at the light
of course I am
how could I not be
everything real honors the reborn
everyone ancient prods the norm
as it should be
as it should be
how can it not be
after the release of a scathing new biography of the disgraced Duke of York
she had things to consider
like the cost of wine in a bitter winter
tariffs and misprints and over-extenders
all the pieces missing from the middle
summer had already been heated
like arguments among sheep soon de-bleated
the noise overtakes the exchange
her knee jerk heart plays no fiddle
respect the delete
what can go wrong
a host of sparrows in drunken chorus
hawks with peace signs wander among us
tunes lie laughingly in secret nerves
she’s learning how to navigate a toothless grin
at one oh two a.m. for her regrettable sins
a bit of bourbon
not enough to pretend clarity escapes her
like blood flung from a painter’s brush
a touch of light in The Night of No Fireflies
thumbprint on the end of rushing
a round of applause for the
truly outstanding wherever they are
these are the times of generalization
fill in the horror
the accusations
random flicks at a pretend nation
something other than ruined creations
sirens cry like wounded reminders
under the crowded footfall of curious minds
tough shit the bastards cry
bite harder she spits in reply
