A present absence expands & contracts,hollow at the core asthin thoughtsconvinced that wordscan poison internal organscollapseinto a pool of stagnant waterwhere no light survives.The daysfold & fall awayleaving only the faintest traceof what onceexisted…grotesque& never-ending,a thing somehow still alive, like
You have a favourite tree in this city,& the one he hung himself fromis in the same public garden.You took me there once:2 am.,we were drunk.You climbed the trunk & sat on the branchwhere he swungfor hours, years ago, untilthe grounds-keeper found him in the morning.& quit their job soon after.He is always somewhere in your mind,the memories you want desperately to survivecome flooding back to you sometimes& the pain in your eyes is unbearable.So much trauma.
Those shadows on the cave wall, distorted,contorted,grotesque & tall,they aren’t shadows at all.Only mutated shapes;circus images permeatingfluid;another trick of a sick mind.Don’t take it too seriouslybut if youlisten too closely to the soundsthey start to drift &float aroundwithout direction, detached from meaning.Don’t be ashamedfor acting from the purest of instincts:
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,And the YearOn the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,Is lying.Come, Months, come away,From November to May,In your saddest array;Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
I never lost as much but twice,And that was in the sod.Twice have I stood a beggarBefore the door of God!Angels -- twice descendingReimbursed my store --Burglar! Banker -- Father!I am poor once more!
The weight of misfortune has stooped my shouldersBut I don’t intend to stop for a good while yet;I afflict my own destinyAnd don’t want anyone to mourn for my fate.I’ve made peace with God on my lossesAnd agreed with him on the epitaphsThat should be written about my senseless wars.