it is the breaking hour

the cubes are now ghosts, all but a few

chairs swiveled backwards

the game, played fervently feverishly every day

has somewhy moved on

with its clicks  its thirties and thirtyones

its victories and defeats

in its place

nothing but tables, tales of nothing and

no one



to seek a savory solace

i reach for raucous words

find only empty

blank black books

and it is late too soon

or soon too late

for any of this

{breaking done}


Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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 )

Connecting to %s