this poem is about something which really means nothing
other than it gives you justification to hit delete
or move on

as my dog has
sighing as I ruminate on each word while
slicing zucchini and radish into red dressing
getting caught between thoughts to mend fences or
building a tougher wall

warming winds chase weak lines and I wince with every
damning post-modernist tendencies
our neighbor’s path we do not follow or do

Miss Brooks explained it In The Mecca
but not for her, for me
and I woke from this female white delusion
which means nothing when the world revolves
around a privileged white son

yet the sun did rise this morning to a lone chirp
a solitary praise for something and I heard it
singing, I survived! 

perhaps I am that bird relying on that hot sphere
to maintain an organic perspective

I am nothing in this world of somethings
but really does that mean anything ~