no 14

There are the all subtle,
and not subtle,
pleasures of anger
and pleasures of hate.

But what do you do . . .
. . . what do you do? . . .
when you begin to see that there is no one,
no one,
no one to blame for heartbreak . . .
. . . what do you do?

The past-was-future is past
and who can imagine the next?
And when it seems there is no next
there is.

Until then. . .
. . . now.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Numbers, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s