not merely words for discord
what makes the other rich
the good old days again
verseless penniless
in debt til we die
kicked out of paradise
immersed in hard labour
not glib and not sentimental
daring not to encrypt ourselves
such underwhelming bits of flesh
with only a candle wick to light the way

we’ve instigated nothing new
no creation to unveil
no wedding glass to break

we bend our shaven heads
toward the night
forsaking humour
half-in, half-out
without words of angst or anger

an I who speaks, an I who stands
despite all the dark thoughts