A Gazebo Where He Once Stood


hey angel lamp,

why don’t you spread

your feathers of light

over that old man

and his suicides?

leave the umbrella

and the window open

so the air won’t grow

hey, hard, grainy earth

how could it have known?

Spring is in her throes

quit lacking mirth

without cigarettes

old man absent now

the old man outside

staring at the twinkling

the light makes a pattern

a definitive v

he can’t remember

these are our tombs

open, dry and bare

cracked bones carved

magnified by ignorance

omnipotenceless

broken trees

force their freedom

I guess he doesn’t exist anymore

Image

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