The world is new but just the same so far.
The all, the school, the nothing, every word
works as it always has, or does not --
I promise love forever, watch leaves fall,
see dead mother look out the bathroom mirror
and think, I need a haircut again so soon?
I look inside and mind wakes up --
the tree in the forest offers to fall again
and griefs drop capes and stand up straight.
At sixty six I'm two-thirds there,
a century or a beast from St. John's hell
old and new but just an ordinary man.
The dark seems cosmic, woowoo and pregnant
with unknown life as always -- time to wake the kids for school.