No more sadness

I ‘ll open a sadness that died
Wednesday with zero future
And past of my sadness size

I , who had not a year more
Than his old sadness in size.
While a simple note refuses

To open the end of a street
Where a cop in yellow dress
Says it’s late it’s late it’s late

Since ,where a sadness dies
A folk tale gets in collection
All mixed up in sea maidens

And eggs that nail the truth
Of what came first , sadness
Or poet at the end of street .

(Homage to poet Denis Johnson who died this Wednesday)

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