What Old Man Kenny Told Me

“You know,
every line on my face
is a dry riverbed of hate.

I hated myself,
others, life and death,
money, problems, solutions.

I lifted my eyes unto the Whatchamacallit
and asked for it all to be taken away
and nothing changed.  So I hated

the Great Answerer for not
answering me.  There were moments
where that hatred

took me over, and the displeasure
of the Lord washed down my cheeks
and washed me out.  Now, I live

like a hobo in the landscape
I have despised, trying to drag
a living from it that doesn’t hurt,

and I am lost, the arroyos
of my skin are dry and lead back
to the heights that have been arid

for many years, and I wish I knew
how to love, how to fill and flood them
until my whole face seemed as smooth

as the surface of a lake, still and calm
in the light of day, reflecting back
love I never allowed myself.”

Blogged with the Flock Browser

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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