Monday, August 2, 2010

His Sadness


Rocks – near imperceptibly –
soft subtle seismic aftershocks –
sits in its own private purgatory –

like some stunned youth,
abandoned inexplicably,
who does not know

how beautiful he is, or if he is alive.
An undramatic dive into interiority
becomes the Universe: part strangely

sweetened curse: part utter stasis.
Irresolution is its cadence
and its basis. His sadness knows

more than you know,
more than you could.
More than you should.





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