—IT FEELS LIKE I’M ALWAYS REACHING FOR THE ONE THING I CAN TRUST AND BELIEVE IN, SO THAT MUST MEAN I’M STILL ALIVE AND LUCKY

 

Apples

 

Each year the apples fall without us

and deer nose the grass before

chomping golden meat to mush.

 

Sundown comes too early,  

like a quiet death without fanfare.

In spring, if there are enough bees, 

 

the buds will pop out their silly heads, 

smile back mischievously,

showgirls willing to tease the gift of beauty.

 

Nature doesn't care about us, even if 

we think it does. When I asked 

how you reconcile an artist’s genius

with his flawed humanity, you said 

They change, even if it's on their deathbed 

asking forgiveness, when no one else hears.