forty three

while staring out the large window this afternoon:


the raindrops on the window
are making the world look wrong

there’s a crumpled leaf in my filthy hand
faded words are written on it
words I don’t understand

there was dirt on the carpeted ground today
and old black tea in the new brown pot

the autumn mountains exhaled its smoke

as I ran to meet the evening

as I ran to the arms of a dying oak


you once told me that everyone’s alone

that we think we have love but we don’t

that the seed of solitude was once and forever sown

that there’s no good man that can atone

for everything

for everything we’ve done.


the sky turned yellow before it went dark

my feet were cold from the aging dew

your thin face appeared in the thinning clouds

with my eyes shut tight and my heart wide open

you were wrong you were wrong I began to shout



there’s a stone where you sleep

it says that you lived but that’s not true

you were dead the day you were born

I untied the black ribbon from around my neck

and laid it amongst the lady fern



you once told me that everyone’s alone

that we think we have love but we don’t

that the seed of solitude was once and forever sown

that there’s no good man that can atone

for everything

for everything we’ve done



with my eyes shut tight and my heart wide open


you were wrong you were wrong



now I know that no one is alone

that we are loved wildly by a force unknown

that flowers of hope have already been grown

that there was a good man that did atone

for everything

for everything we’ve done