Diary of an American

missing.always.missing.

hole cut out of my life

I am you

   just another version, that’s all.

now, in the twilight of middle age

I discover I am merely flesh and blood with no heart.

the winds blow through my soul

encountering no obstacle

on the grassless prairie

still, I am far away.

haunted by my demons and my muse

late nights are a way to closeness

finding soulmates

crushed and created

broken and built

not merely words on two dimensional pages

Stasis in darkness

O Ariel, you sing to me

of dirges and funeral marches

and cut thumbs

and bleeding souls.

there is nothing like the bloodless

shadow of loneliness

of being claimed by memory

two apace.

sad songs do not reclaim you

nor does art

or the postcards written long ago

there is only the cold wind

whistling round the empty attic

of my body

simply inhabiting space

until that time.

the sun shines on dusty rooms

old words written on yellowed pages

when i teach

  a memory

so sings  Mnemosyne.