quarantine blues



i’ve discovered

no one


54 years

are almost tolling a bell’s furious head


a birthday cake in all its

autumnal fading


ideas ferment plagiarism

yet pretend fresh bones


same sky sketches

same breath resides the bored lung


that wreathed hand

almost of soot


and


broken branches

reaching


there’s a gasp that

knows its last


sighs were never built to

overcome those charcoal incoming mountains


these shadows are too vast and clumsy who

they kill


i’ve ached past tuesday

and tomorrow purrs stale


which exit am i administered to

it sure won’t be painless


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