Left the House
04/28/2026 14:58h
I
Left the house shattered, it hurt so bad,
so many years as a man, compromise,
in spite of partial success in intellectual tussle
he was never anyone of Olympian allure.
He walked slowly through the dreamscape
of the late autumn day, barely distinguishable
from early spring, with young willows
and a patch of waste ground where blue jays screamed.
Dreamy exposure to phenomena
that to nature in its administration
of various cycles—young and old alike—
are inseparably part of a single order—:
so he drank his gin and accepted a dish
of sausage soup, free on Thursdays
with a beverage and so found the Olympian balance
of sorrow and pleasure.
II