Yesterday the roses were mostly enormous
(The clouds were in the mailbox)
I was glad in the dark
Birds were near.
Oh, worst the wound, Still
I can notice:
The curtains blowing in with regular emptiness,
The silence of the snails of no reason,
The streets of no rain.
Most things look ridiculous:
I never loved the woman I wanted.
It will never be the same.
I hear the corridor empty of feet.
This snow holds no rose
Winter water’s here.
Who floats in a moat?
Knights don’t
Alligators don’t
And pickles, pickles are just sad alligators.
There is no patron with fine and willing daughters.
There’s nothing here to laugh about.
I’m all walked out. I’m through.
A single, simpering panda,
I’m trembling like a box of buttons.Oh, there’re houses
I’ve noticed;
Windows; women stuffed with cotton.
Women breathing.
Windows with lights
where the few remaining cowboys
aren’t dreaming.
~jwl
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