Incomplete

How can
the best and the worst
be rolled into one year?
A tear shed
for a child, long since dead.
I am alone,
     again,
           Alone.

The arms I long to
have around me
Are six hours away,
South this time.
That's the direction everything is headed.

I have loved and lost and loved again.
I have gone down the hole of the whitest rabbit,
and since my return,
nothing is quite the same.
    I am insane, sometimes,
      I am sane.
                         Insanity is merely being sane in a mad hatter
                         sort of world, with unbirthdays and doormice
                         and cats with mustaches, let alone smiles.

Let alone to myself, my mind is working overtime.
I write, I write, I write.
The words spill like Old Faithful
and my brain is covered with clouds
  while remaining ever-clear.

I drank a half fifth of tequila last weekend.
             I've never done that before.

I may be done, but I'll never be finished.

Reviews

[hoyt]

very good poem,..enjoyed it..Your poems feel natural..the flow a stream from the heart.

"I may be done, but I'll never be finished" ..Excellent last line! great write..