No you don’t see neat tercets
If that’s what you’re expecting
Just some smeary blocks and daubs
Page after page hour by hour
A cassette unreeled in the island gutter
Atop the exit off the interstate
Halfway there and still no propositions
Or halfhearted attempts at definition
One man’s phoebe another’s nemesis
Or some such histrionic gesture
Better to gaze at debris than nothingness
I don’t even know who I’m addressing