I become saddened
almost to the point of grief
when I think of all the
good women I have known
who have left,
vanished,
over trivialities.
What have I given thee dear
fits of tears?
ruin fed upon you
the whittling to this nothingness
these words are salves
my heart replaced by a beehive
& the arteries of streets
shine beneath a cauliflower sky
everything moves on
even memories fade
then fail
through all the follies
of the world
& what is to be
and be nothing
but light to a life
