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)