Friday, December 22, 2017


There used to be such things
as hometowns.

Now, you're not
so sure there are anymore.

A whole decade,
one big blank.

Important things
wait in desk drawers,

while you dust off meaningless junk
And repeat:

A whole decade,
one big blank.

Close your eyes
and take a hard swallow,

reminds you of the sound,
of great lake waves lapping—

cold and lonely,
but, like in a dream,

ly fake and two-dimensional.

Then, there are those other moments
lately, it's

so quiet,
you nearly lose your balance.

A whole decade,
one big blank.

But a blank
so palpable

and opaque—that it can't be
the silence of people not speaking;

it must be the one
that comes from too few of them

too huge a space.