Gone Astray in Trackless Wastes

I no longer believed in the revolution
but what is there for a man to do with his life?

It gave purpose to my wanting to be alone.
The aftermath is two people breathing.

I am used up, a waste gas.
And there are other, worse, symptoms.


     Derek Wolcott | The Schooner Flight
     Russell Edson | Angels
     Terry Ehret | The Author of This Poem Will Grant an Interview
     David Roderick | Self-Portrait in 1969 (Summer)
     Brian Spears | Hurry
     Andrew Feld | Litte Viral Song