The street lamp validated it. I’m single, sui generis, without partner, lost entirely in self. East, up the street, no shadow cast. Turning this way and that a black specter, once sewn to my heel, deserted me. Under the lamp, a diminutive, hollower man stood alone.
Partnered all these years, and suddenly it goes AWOL, Not so much as a note left behind on the kitchen table. Took off on a vacation to Tahiti with Gauguin, I suppose, Hopped aboard a freighter and left behind a husk To be blown by the next wind into a county full of darkness casting no shadows.
Evanescent waif without ground anchor, Without a marching companion to match step-for-step. No gargantuan, liquid black man to partner on vacant ambulations. Only a straw man left in his Earth shoes slinking to nowhere in desperate search.
Greater problems to be borne at the feet of bifurcated beings Afloat on a sea of Lethe, a half-man wind whistles through wispy, endless story, of a shadow fleeing.
Drowned in unclogged arteries: thoughts. I am going to release a swarm of bees. It was your dark hour. A father sits outside your body to collect the stings. A restive finger on a blue gun invites the ghosts to
The path was becoming pathless after seeking the deluge. Gunslingers were climbing on trees to shoot the white doves. There were ice needles in my eyes to check the inheritance of height. Desires move with a feline grace, lynx-eyed. You
Our final moment draws near As we leave all behind Ending our story For a new beginning Each day spent Was a day wasted Until it comes down To the final sayings The last moment Before we end our journey
We are all in a race, the race for being first, From childhood we have been told you have to come first or your life will be as meaningless as dust. People are struggling to be appreciated and be known,