Year of the Blues

If every point tells some form
of beginning then we are going
nowhere. Television does not
take death seriously.

That you are here is unacceptable.
You need to show me how to believe.
Your old watch, this table, and a saw.
Reflections mostly reveal sadness.

They are everywhere. Every pane
of glass reveals not only me but you.
More them than us. And 98%
of our universe turns up invisible.
I am losing more vision every day.

If we meander into vagueness
how are we supposed to find you?
There is one box for each of us.
I have been dreaming of mine
from age blank. This is how we are.

Let us be blind and righteous
Lordy lord lord.

Copyright © 2005 A. C. Schaffer All rights reserved
from 32 Poems
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission