My mind cycles in broad sweeps.
It seems we are rodents on treadmills
when stuck in an environment of patriarchy.
I will meet a girl on something of a date,
who is separating from her wife;
Where will we go, and is it unmanly
If I’m nervous?
Private Thoughts on Property
When what you have to look forward to
There’s a painting on the wall;
its shades of green are similar to
Those on the Mayflower moving vessel
And the crates of pages on pages of
Printed out material is always collecting dust.
Overcast glare on a taupe branch curving up,
A dog barks
Haven’t seen the stray cat in months,
A neighborhood of individuals who basically know I exist
But in principle I don’t.
One branch wavers heavily in the wind,
Thick dry chestnut leaves bog it down.
How can change frighten the prisoner,
who is free so misery is of our own device?
Inessentiality of Names
An environment which denies me my change,
Like the indifferent passings-by of violent masses,
Society in the grip of self-delusion
And stationary raindrops cling
Outside the pane;
A slick black pavement shades to gray
And white, dotted with autumn leaves
In the last warmth, the
Middle of December.