To C. West (+2)

Standing redundant

in an echoing wind,

renewing your vanity

with deference to all

 

At home on the fringes

where truth is an orphan,

you line up your enemies

canons shot at the wall

 

A general of

a malingering army,

whose entitled thinkers

lay truth in the grave

 

The devil is calling

his pulpit awaits you,

the olive branch hollow

—your memory enslaved

 

(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: November, 2020)

 

 

 

Le Mans 1955

 

Its history was written

in tragedy

 

The period to the last sentence

—was death

 

(The New Room: November, 2020)

 

 

 

A Cold Wind

 

In fear of your abandon,

afraid of letting go

 

Alone and feeling stranded,

bereft—no kindness shown

 

(Dreamsleep: November, 2020)