2-5-97 abstract depressionism


Mired in self
Not sure if it’s respect or spoiled wants
I’m just not sure
Of what is happy
Or admissible

Here, here where my greatest discoveries
And greatest sorrows rest
In tonight’s distant shadows

I can’t focus
What I feel and what needs to be done
Bicker like a lonesome crew
Every time I lift the damn pen
There’s a change of heart
Perhaps cabin fever has no place
On a tour…

Tiny steps through tiny days
Ignore the complaints darkening the Black Forest
I don’t need a hot foul wind to keep me warm
Glossy banners insult gray wool
Too much detail fuels bitter fire

Obscured objects, cool blue water

Angle to curve, curve to circle

A simple cross flies above a flat black field.