Compute the Sorrow

Add up the dead and dying,

Damn right;
Numbers only lie in pieces
Approximated in plain sight.
A room full of statisticians
Say, “There’s margin of error here…”
With whole percentages of tears
Running down the faces left alive.

All Things

We can be anything and everything

but time is against us;

we open the door to possibility
and find an empty room;

we write the story of our future and still
the page we write on is blank.

We are everything and nothing.

© BH, 2021

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Another fragment from the past - or else an invention misremembered. Who’s to say. I’ve been dredging through old writings so the former is a possibility. But I can’t find a manuscript where the original might reside. Whatever, it’s much changed and maybe it’s a sign of the times and time passing.

Hey ho.

a poem once

I wrote 

a poem
on lined paper

     a poem begun
     too long ago
     in a time before

Every 3rd Word

brumaire

Mastery

Initiae sapientiae timor domini.

        Fear of the Lord
dried out our wisdom;
fear of God, the bowed head,
the eyes averted, feet of clay.

I dinna ken…

          I dinna ken 

if Scavie’s livin yet, nor Dites Antonio,

nor Charlie Shrites.

Nightfall’s

A garden bird,

A hidden window;

Boneyard