Monday, June 8, 2015


at most things--
it's our nature
to get it
wrong; it breeds
comedy & tears--
the few things
we're good at.
I've stepped back
to look
at our small
disasters; semicolons
of pain.
We demanded
too much
& gave up
too little--
a recipe
for the suffering
of poets.
But without
the rhyme
we walk
with no rhythm;
without defeat
can be no
victory; and without
the emperor
there are no clothes.
We're fools
in this roulette world
of genes
& jokes,
of perception.
Hardly acquainted
with myself
I think
I know
Next time,
I say,
I'll get it
next time.
But my watch
is broken
and the clock
keeps ticking.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015

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