DARRYL LORENZO WELLINGTON Poetry Dedicated to Strangers, Lives and Others in Starry Disbelief

DARRYL LORENZO WELLINGTON | POETRY DEDICATED TO STRANGERS, LIVES AND

OTHERS IN STARRY DISBELIEF

A new self at rebirthing inarticulate and stupid is a gangly doll half plastic, half human. The universe slopes such an undeclamatory evening like a tilted glass the stars gone milky the stars gone whitish milky near shadowless absence the grass the color of porous-hearted nostalgia the color of a still life reminiscence the still life the color of Goldenlight crackers, milk, and honey.

The grief is implicit inside the sharing of stories Do you mean the sharing of stones? Regardless of whether I ask slowly, methodically, like a toy simulacrum, too much like a metronome, the chess pieces measuring an end game, the small pawns marching toward an upheaval the upheaval weightier than a cathedral Do you mean weightier than a culmination? so that I speak beneath a cathedral tomb and I ask whether I myself am duplicitous a toy inside an echolalic simulacrum Do I mean the grief is implicit?

while others speak spastically, helplessly, babbling several voices, while others break into tears while others withhold so much judgment insensibly to themselves/ against the world/ and from the world against themselves their hard luck cases plunk like stones pelting the cathedral moat waters. Do I mean to share the stones with the dreary waters?