No longer
With us he
Who was once
A real somebody, so
Significant a poet
In his own out of it right,
That he was
Soon enough written off
By virtual slews
Of in “significant” poetic
Nobodies—
Can you believe that?
Nothing needs
Something with which to see,
Something more visceral
Than nothing, something
One can eviscerate all
The way past
Nothing, you see?
What was it
We had to face
Every day? Let me see—
For starters there was
The same old sun,
The moon,
The stars,
The bittersweet feel
Of coarse earth under bare feet.
The main course was grin and bear it
Of course, though it wasn’t
All that bad in the end,
And one thing more
Just for the record—
Insecure brats we may have been,
But we knew for sure
Tomorrow would always be
A brand-new day!
Dear God, have a heart—
How bare
this
Wretched sandlot looks;
Where are all those
Ragtag tatterdemalion holy
Terrors that once played
Their ragged hearts out?
Scroll down your answer—
I know you know, stop
Tearing me apart.
