Tuesday, January 3, 2023


It isn't really 
very funny—

when stacked 
next to eons 

and light years' worth 
of nothing, 

the tiniest thing 
cannot help but be 

that minuscule cut 
on the tip 
of your tongue; 

those grace notes 
which tug a song blue 
as it's sung—

even the one 
little bruised spot  
you've got 

on that impressive suit 
of armor 

which used to be 
your heart. 

That's the part 
of you that proves,

despite the 
empty gloom 
and dark

parading through 
this universe, 

that you'll not 
pass through it 

you'll soften
and rot 
before you could do that,

like a true work 
of art—or a bad piece 
of fruit.