…and in my weary solitude

many

realizations have come to me like gestures or

implications

in the night.

Many shifts of soft

summer winds have crossed my brow and have

brought with them

the secrets and myths of

almighty time — and all the enormous cruelties

that come with them.

There is no exit.

…and in my desperate magnitude

all the

pleasures of insidious life

are intensified only by

the loss of the very pleasures in which we incite.

No exit.

…and then in my dreary attitude, with the

rain falling like sheets all around me, it’s easy to see

that one always finds one’s burden again.

There is no exit.