Light Showers

Light Verse After Forty

This must be what they call existential despair.
Since I'm not existential, it doesn't seem fair.

The lassitude/longitude of my position
Locate me past Hubris, just south of Contrition.

Most print has got smaller; I barely decipher
The weal of wee Peanuts and woe of Jules Feiffer.

The Company Store's laying claim to my soul;
Life's all in the bag, but the bag's a Black Hole.

Now all I can do is all I can do;
To go on going on is the only way through.

The more that I think, the less that I know,
But the surer I am of what really is so.

We all are on hold now and in disawry;
I'll be gone for Good on the day I die.

The way grows short and some days are dim,
Yet the whole world quakes when I think of Him.

I think of Him.

Top of Page

Previous Poem   Next Poem