Fall ‘72

As i squint through my sadness
    eyes of sorriest unrest
disquieted by the split between
    me and my compeers
sequel to deficit of views
    feeling used-up and squeezed-out by society
though not so blessedly bereft of grief
    as the village idiot exorcised beyond belief
nor as nonchalant as a solitary bee
    found cold and unangry on a dying goldenrod in September
gutwise i’m hung-up –- with belly fodder no luck
    lush in the bush letting off steam
god’s grace as inefficacious as demon rum
    in redeeming loss of face: seeing self eye to inner eye
while saints sing hosannah
    church choirs serenade apple-pie order in the sky
as if metermaids and one-way streets
    honking drivers speed traps cops on their beats
were headtrips extensions of the ego


Nah i’ll recover my composure
by-and-by without closure
    we grow through not out of
as trees askew attest
    oh Susannah don’t you cry calls out your best
we’ll bear up serenely never meanly
    hardship promises unjoyful occasion to think things over
like crabgrass and clover we’ll learn to thrive
    in the alley where neglect and abuse aint discreet
better that than put up a front like a garden lawn
            obliged to the street

mcmlxxii