There’s no time.
alone. we don’t mind
the black sky
wide. i have
an eye on a star not
especially prominent.
low in the South. it’s cold.
the last night of the year
& i might be high
on lithium. i’m in
1979 &..
10/9/
8/7/6…
I’m up. get hit again/
5/4/ & I’m down/
3/2 looking up
at a star not
especially prominent/
1/ & I know but
can’t place the
face O my daughter! what now?
where do I go
& with Whom & what for?
thanks Peter. love that fresh dug grave .
Seems too good to be true, to me, amico, your penmanship seems to be getting mightily sharp of late!
That ‘don’t mind / the black sky / wide’ is like the gaping of a freshly dug grave, stops one ‘dead’!