The Song Has Ended

celebrating the good, launched into its
suffering,
spacing out, lascivious for justice,
wagging war on instincts.

cherry trees, indescribable bugs, leaves,
I have little to say.

over yonder, the absence feeling, gazing
into other cultures,
leading in independence, remembering
codependence,
raffled to poetry.  

color is a universal dilemma, a hassling
battle, making
combat with
mirrors.

women are a universal concern, deeper
interior presence,
most need dear existence, dearer injustice
—in one’s favor.

mixed tapes, mixed views, mixed
acceptance. fever for passion, once vetted,
it feels normal.

qualifications—absence of person, a
present cloth, detached from body, mind
made of unmentionables.

going into souls, beats display spirits—I
was found at its fountain;
they boss like senators, they hide like
consultants, and the song has ended.