the
lonesome poem
I could
find no fine words
no salve for my stupidity
though that's too harsh a word
for
my silliness
pouting here
in an illusion of aloneness
thinking my days
empty
petty
when its as full
they're as full
as the river and the
lake
and then there's the dawn
of the day beyond
and it's full of simplicity
and
the dogs howl
the owl screeches
and I scratch
chin
temple
belly
and
then walk empty
in the crowd
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