BG ( / )


I must confess a certain ambivalence
concerning my intentions, when clearly,
I do not vision the connection between
my “place of agency” and my inner spaces.

I must now critically confess
to my multicolored faces,
historical, as I recall,
and subject my reflections
to generally vague recollections
of my supposedly “deeds” of execution.

This leaves me with a seeming conception
of so many generally pithy impressions ––
such an endless expanse of blank spaces ––

All these years with many fears
I dedicated to the construction
of a life of solid constitution, but alas ––
what happened to my resolutions ––
the moments piled up

and I have ended up with no monument.
All I behold is a vision of skeleton bones,
feeling the wind whistling through, blowing
and rolling tumbleweeds across desert sands,
and a need for final absolution.

- March 25,2008

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Comments (2)

i love the last stanza, says it all..a final absolution after a confession.Another great piece from a great poet that i adore so much.Luv ya Hugs, Meggie
My statement is so vague pertaining to this poem but here goes...Here! Here! ...My Sentiments Exactly! Dorothy