EXPULSION

Expulsion
I’m surrounded
By eyes - black olives floating in pools of nonfat milk sagging in the burnt surface of so many melting faces
If I write, I am saved
There is shining light from where my pencil strikes
The same clawed at yellow light I’ve seen lay down on city buildings
The light of smoke screened suns
And everything is old newspaper
Boxed and pressed in closet corners, basements and in attics
Vibrating yellowed memories
And a wadded paper cloud, scribbled with grey lines, is tucked into the crook of a tree formed by a sawed off limb
It is Ginsberg’s poetry
Perhaps placed by his homeless ghost
Finally
Everything I see, I selfishly see reflecting me
The only time I pay attention
I want to what?
I have anything?
This is not my world?
I asked to be here before I was born
And I picked up something on the way that refuses to accept it.