I AM NOT PHONEY

Full of ghosts, I besiege a city of ghosts-

a transcendental epic of timelessness in dissonant intervals.

Listening to the dying echo of our world

is plunging me into abyssal vacantness,

week after week, desolate shore after desolate shore.

Musing over your impregnable helplessness,

I’m left in love with your broken mirror

beside the extinguished fire of our hearth.