SOMEONE ASKED IF I WRITE POETRY *Universality* towards generational anxiety therefore the way it all works is incorrect pertaining to the wondrous altogether sides in

Have you lived — On a numbered avenue, Did you wonder, can I walk them all the way down to number zero, or all the

I knew a man He survived the camps on his good looks. Can I survive a party On mine? One boy’s blue eyes found him

And I was making speeches Trying to straighten creases, Pushing all the blemishes off your body. expunging all complexity Then Night fell And everything was

Morning shined new and bright, by mid afternoon ready to die, in the evening drunk, and then it was morning again.