Decline

naked along the side of the house,

8 a.m., spreading sesame seed oil

over my body, Jesus, have I come

to this?

I once battled in dark alleys for a

laugh.

now I'm not laughing.

I splash myself with oil and wonder,

how many years do you want?

how many days?

my blood is soiled and a dark

angel sits in my brain.

things are made of something and

go to nothing.

I understand the fall of cities, of

nations.

a small plane passes overhead.

I look upward as if it made sense to

look upward.

it's true, the sky has rotted:

it won't be long for any of

us.

from The Olympia Review - 1994