Once written on 8.13.09

A night becomes clouded
as we sometimes say
‘things happen’
abstractly, indifferently
that it is suddenly August
2009
a veil of intellectualism
is lifted
a human face looks up
mine, yours, whatever
there are clouds, ideas, philosophies
up there
we look down, you, me, whatever
barren reality
wooden window frames
dusty desks, unsharpened pencils
feeble light, organic darkness
you see the dark
it doesn’t have a name
then there is real silence
scattered coins
uncharged cell phones
a sleeping wife
that it hits you, me, what you will
it is August 13th
2009
what a feeling.

Nihilistic Poetry

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