La Condition Humaine

 

There is no time.

Past’s as much
the present
as the future is

and memory is neurological –

a seasoning of something
in the flesh.
Everything is biological.

But what about the lover part?

What about the space
a lover doesn’t take
inside your heart?

What’s inside your heart?

Muscle blood and artery
so metaphorically inert
they cannot hurt –

but something hurts –

at any rate abashes –
today, in fact, amasses
burning form. Today

the lover that you never had
came by to sit with you –
petition you to make him
warm with impropriety –

to counsel you to let

your yearning languish.
La condition humaine
is not anxiety, it’s anguish.






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