(no) one is leaving
i wept once (only once -)
for the tragedy of birth
(irony reached a ridiculous pitch)
not understanding the folly of understanding
what isn't to be understood
cleanse my lips with coal
(if it is on fire it is it is clean)
their is no comprehen(s[c]ion -
born into [no]thing (no) one is leaving
with anything anyway urbanascetic in the basement
[kerouac saw the ikon and the poet of rainbows
came close to approaching understanding but appreciated
well enough for all that he too was the poet of rainbows]
without coal upon my lips
i sprout dagger tips
(painful toothchips)
& thus understanding slips
[silently in morning the stock market slips millions are lost
from the flock]
Ryan C. Pirosch is an undergraduate student working toward an English B.A. and a writing minor at Buffalo State College.