"Wistfulness Is," first of all, is a terrible name for a prose poem, but the poem itself is not so terrible.
Wistfulness is an eternally recurring litany of old names. Streets I lived in as a child (Presidents' names) rewinding my stepmother's mind and mine to when we thought with one heartbeat.
Lincoln Street--and Linkin' Park!-- But back in North Carolina willow scents the air over my real mother's flowerless grave while an industrial metal band practices its tunes under the shade of a distant white gazebo to incite unrest among the dead.
But today I am with my sweetheart and we cut out paper dolls and coupons from the newspaper to string together magnificent crowns for our long flowing hair. And although I have even more regrets than a guilty man, I am not guilty for I know Ghod is with me. Amen. Rah.
Wistfulness is an eternally recurring litany of old names. Streets I lived in as a child (Presidents' names) rewinding my stepmother's mind and mine to when we thought with one heartbeat.
Lincoln Street--and Linkin' Park!-- But back in North Carolina willow scents the air over my real mother's flowerless grave while an industrial metal band practices its tunes under the shade of a distant white gazebo to incite unrest among the dead.
But today I am with my sweetheart and we cut out paper dolls and coupons from the newspaper to string together magnificent crowns for our long flowing hair. And although I have even more regrets than a guilty man, I am not guilty for I know Ghod is with me. Amen. Rah.
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