r.i.p. david berman

It’s so hard watching them continue to fall . . .

Oh Where

by David Berman

Where did you go, my dear, my day;
Where, oh where, did you go?
To market, to maker of market, to say
Too much of the little I know.

Where did you go, my dear, my year;
Why did you flee from me?
I went from here to there to here
Loitering breathlessly.

Where did you go, my life, my own,
Decades gone in a wink?
Some things are better left unknown
Some thoughts too thick to think.



‘It is autumn and my camouflage is dying . . .’

wearing my badger suit

Sleep evades as manic passion envelops. Meanwhile they’re closing in. They want what they don’t have and I don’t want most of what I’ve got. But I’m still angry and afraid. It’s in the late night hours that we confront the truths that daylight scatters to the dark corners. It’s when the needle hits the vinyl past midnight that you start to wonder what’s really going on. Drinking this American Water and feeling okay, but in a different uncontrolled kind of way. Maybe side two holds the answers? Maybe not. Maybe there are no answers.

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