Where Loneliness Lives

Where Loneliness Lives

For Kate Seely

Can you write a poem about loneliness,
when there’s no hope?
A poem about loneliness,
when you are stuck in the crowd.
A poem for the loneliness of my heart.
Can you?
You asked me crying,
diamonds where falling from your eyes.
I had nothing to say
you to cried
I sank in your tears.

You are lonely and it’s a Tuesday evening,
your food is lacking salt
life is tasteless in your mouth,
and hope seems to be getting your letter,
but not responding.
oh well.

You are lonely
and heaven is closed for the season.
There is an empty space in your heart,
and nothing is filling it.

I think about loneliness,
and I remember the day I was born.
I was born under an apple tree
4000ft above the sea level,
wearing a sailor’s hat.
My mother was a grape vine,
my dad was wrapped in cotton candy-
singing to a coffee cake.
My grandparents were hanging chandeliers
from a roofless house,
my aunt was wrapped in the constitution,
and my uncles were collecting snow in their hats.
My fist was clutched and when I opened my it
my hair turned gray
and when I took my first breath
I was 43,
Loneliness
had already build her house
—–next to mine.

Loneliness is like that,
hidden in field,
—-behind the tall grass,
bathing in warm waters of southern pacific,
naked in Sierras,
hungry on the streets
drunk in bars.

loneliness
is a child from your yesterdays,
from dots on
————a map.

12.2.16
Peyman A.
Washington, D.C.

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