it’s been some time since i wrote in this form,
for i’ve drifted along the passive grove
into the tainted industrial norm
of the passionless eye’s exhausted cove.
the meter is parched here, as well its rinds,
and i’ve shoveled for years in search of wit,
finding nothing but grains of barren minds
that were once coral reefs, now deemed unfit.
the cove was once here, and now it is gone;
like detroit, like booze, like a one night stand.
i ceased to live when i crossed my blue lawn
into this shriveled cove where minds grow bland.
(were it ever to feel a drop of rain
my mind would see beauty in these quatrains.)