Inhabiting Uninhabitable Harbors
Today, my coronation,
a castle of unease.
Catch a glance at the tired statue,
the crow bowing atop the silver fountain.
Imagine a sinking figurehead.
Ascertain just one thing lovely.
If not... if it's all only ugly,
please at least pretend.
My growth grins not at the years;
still they peel themselves like sweating wallpaper
from my dry, crackled skin-
the destinationless envelope
of my shapeless soul.
We all speak of desolation and emptiness.
Of balding hearts, and the lying futurists-
bright globes in their palm caves
they deny glowing, moaning endlessnesses.
The blue howl of the 10 o'clock train whistle.
Those infinite insect hissings
that monopolize our restless hours.
The glass near our beds, just old, drying water.
Then no one ever wants to remember
the cracked pink shade
forever harboring our dimming light.