2025-08-15

On The Margins of Existence (what other men have in their basements)

That’s me in the pocket:

Losing my castration
To the sipping pool table swingers,

Dying in four four time,
Oh and four for the cat shit under my nails,

Watching them be fruitful and
multiply my twenty second year of fallow,

Losing my decision
To Christ and to Maggie,

Leading what few into the nettle and chai——
Mutinied into home

Trembling with Father’s hand
In grasp——I will miss you——
And an old lady snatches him
To where he’d rather be,

Laying down my head,
Laying down my arms,

Losing
The listless battles.

Until I awake on the golf course
Built over the dank pit of dreams.

The water rushes
The frog’s call.
The cart path cracks
The moon’s shine
Through the thinning crowns.