Love this man’s poetry!
a vote for the gentle light
burned senseless by other people’s constant
I pull the curtains apart,
aching for the gentle light.
it’s there, it’s there
oh, the faces of depression, expressions
pulled down into the gluey dark.
the bitter small sour mouths,
the self-pity, the self-justification is
too much, all too much.
the faces in shadow,
deep creases of gloom.
there’s no courage there, just the desire to
possess something––admiration, fame, lovers,
money, any damn thing
so long as it comes easy.
so long as they don’t have to do
and when they don’t succeed they
they imagine that they have
been slighted, cheated,
then they concentrate upon their
unhappiness, their last
and they’re good at that,
they are very good at that.
they have so much unhappiness
they insist upon your sharing it
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