And when…

We are rogues in the gallery
of ever more darkening whys.

All humdrum & piddle-paddle
we rattle, prattle on ’til dusk.

The orchard of time’s diminishing venue
has dropped its fruit at our feet.

We plaster the pictures on the wall.
Judge not until you heed the call.

Line up. You have a number.
When asked say, “present.”

In your wonder you have wandered
to a clearing of the mind,

outlasted your resistance,
to find that each and every path leads here.

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.

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