Tuesday, March 13, 2018


    I often wonder if I’m mad,
    Or if now and then in the past
    I was, for was I not love-struck
    Such that living without her was
    Something I couldn’t bear to do?
    But three years later I am perhaps
    Living still as though a will

    Divorced itself from the downward
    Thrust of death which of course
    Isn’t the same as bearing to live --
    Listing here as though a boat whose
    Hull was breached and was left at
    High tide far up the beach, far
    From the sea it used to sail.

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