What May Not Exist

When the space arrived at the end
when all else that day was done
there was nothing left to do about it.

The chatter, packing and unpacking of
the business day, banter of a shallow sort,
the very pretend was the reality that capitalism brings.

Those left quietly to their own just
desserts were holding empty plates as darkness arrived.
Those moments in the background static held sway.

There are no ends they will not go
to hold onto the pittance they have
acquired and turn it round again

as it wears thin
with this rubbing about
as the nuance wears out.

The part you are left with
is the same as the one
you started out with so

long ago before you
knew what is what
and what isn’t.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

Leave a comment