Updated: Apr 30, 2020
He is shipwrecked marble,
green and shattered exhausted changes
rickracked, ruined, halfway human--
Nothing else but bandaged caps
In wool and against delirium,
His blind eyes, their leaking lips,
Last year’s broken evening rest.
Hearing the songs of generations.
of castaways, mavericks, the dying
who are soothed by those green acres
Pneumatic doors groan open,
like knees without conviction,
A gesture archaic as waste
Vintages poured out of sacrifice
The cicadas’ two-note purring songs--
In the wind, small things also cry.