pith

I want to tell the world

Something about itself

But I know nothing of it

So what can I say?

That I am true, or that I speak

Perhaps I can tinkle a

Single tune on a pianner

Or turn a pithy phrase?

Or that I've known love

And the bitter taste of cigarettes

On a balmy wet autumnal afternoon?

But there is her in the corner

And the clatter of my own never-played melodies.

It won't help in mapping my

Image of You, whatever You be

Or the world and its anger

Its listless lusts all indifferent

Perpetual propagation

As stubborn as nitrogen.

Lord this is no measure.