I’m tired
the kind 
that sleep 
can’t fix
I reach
deep down 
inside pockets 
that once 
held happiness 
now empty 
so sit
I shall 
and wait 
to see

This depth
I am 
is itself 
a whole 
new level 
of loneliness 

this happens 
you know 
or not 
until you 
can or
ever do 

If you 
only saw
what I
do see
I guarantee 
that you 
would never 
again open 
your eyes 
for absolute 
beauty requires 
the purest
perspective upon 
which to 
view it 
rather stay 
where you 
are see
what you 
do and 
leave the 
heavens to 
the angels 
and me

From my window 
every single morning 
I see the 
supermarket produce section 
in the front 
is green broccoli 
stalks popping up 
further back potatoes 
behaving like buildings 
beyond that charcoal 
briquettes stacked high 
and on top 
one white row
of early summer 
squash not yet
ripe but soon
a city’s cornucopia 
prime for picking 

People return 
like swallows
they do 
having been 
then gone 
and back
like oars
they row
pushing pulling 
always moving 
along until 
at last 
they tire 
and return 
no more 
making one 
near or
far wonder 
when again 
if again 
never again