I don't know about you, but I am having so much fun reading and writing poetry. It does all seem pretty cynical, or is it downright nihilistic? I don't feel particularly depressed, but admittedly my world-view is unremittingly negative. Please know that when I read them, I smile! And writing them is a very positive experience for me.
Did anyone think of us?
Certainly we hoped not,
Better to go on with one’s business unobserved.
Did anyone love us?
Certainly it seemed vaguely possible only
To the lucky ones,
And the rest of us had given up.
The next bottle of Colt, the next Kent, a stolen Modern Man,
Life’s simple pleasures delighted us,
And we endured ordinary reality,
Hating ourselves and each other,
And hating especially the happy ones among us, the unconfused,
There were some,
I remember them,