Rosalind Brenner

one cannot find a hole
to fill with peace
a bowl of stars
on which to sup
on which to dine
or not to sup on
if it doesn’t mind or
minds not dangling or does mind

since when is earth
when since so hollow
that a man or
in cases some are women
or otherwise or not wise
someone rises up declares
who knows these days or those
what we are or where

I for one
find eating stars a grazing
appetite pleasing antidote for
gazing at displeasing news
instead enquire into
clothing catalogues
current fashion
insists the look it brings just right
and I buy it though not
a one for current shallow blazing

fashion though simply current
for sake of mere consumption
electricity runs through me empty
but on these transparent pages
no matter who gets fat
and who is starving
through the troubled
trouble world

stars are always troubling
first you want to be them not
then be them yes
then eat them
to fill that hole of longing
never satisfied
wishing for
the meat the juice of it
taste succulence
that makes it better you try
but then the losing minding
mind of it slips like sand
through sieve not stars
ends up not anything

I say again there is just one
not me not you
and no thing can be done
yes no thing can be done.

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