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Dave Bonta
out of work
they break up
all the vehemence and rhetoric
of wind in the night
to argue mightily with little reason
I pretend to know
whether I do or not
a word too low to hear
went forth with me into the woods
like a cool furniture of air
The war I mourn
died yesterday of spotted fever.
We sat late disputing
at the burial.
At my office I change the office.
A good mind thinks
a good argument
to do other-
wise.
Instead of pointing out
why my way is wrong
you should see
in what way my way excels
when you have, come back to me
and then I will tell you...
I told you so
they pass & i turn
but you know this
the act
revolves around itself
my time
goes marked by letters, some
enthusiasms vanish, in arguing
with you i've used up many books but
the work is too much. i have no
energy
to mould them sky darkens now
the snow is grey sounds of cooking a
movement of plates
this room is cold
and i'm in trouble