Yesterdays

I.
in 2011 from the foggy shell
      eyes behind cages of tempered glass
glared out through ragged hair

II.
time is a passing thing
                                     life is not

there was nothing left unsaid

I think of you saying goodbye
resting on my lap

chin against chin

III.
I hope you know
I never wanted

                          to go

Brown Nose

Walt, you're probably
disappointed--

I've ignored any semblance of
allegorical mishmash
     connective tissue to
the past remembrance of
great heroes,

I guess I'm slowing down,

on birthdays
on Turtle Island atomic holocaust
                                       nightmare
while the non-grass carpeted world
                        howls a selfish
                        self-same, self-aggrandizing chorus
           at
an uncaring pitch
           relating stories

sadly

a million seconds in the wrong direction--

I've lost
grip on
the metaphor.