GENERATIONS Copyright (C) 1997 by Not Nice Music
II. A COLLECTION OF OBSCURITY by Edwin M. Drogin

7. Complaints May Be Left At The Desk

The question tumbles in my mind
The life's place hastened by a trembling fear.
Ethereal: a transient kind
Of living.  Quick and near.

The question tumbles
Peace, to answer once, and then.
While every moment fumbles,
Drain my love again.

The question
On the lips of laughing time,
Minute suggestion.
Causal, sleek, sublime.

Oh, droning fate - how huge it looms
The question, subtle infinite suggestion
Tumbling, bruising in my mind
To seek and ever yet to find.

How many times, it said...
Too beautiful for that brief moment
Of a tear drop fame.
To poets only we, the cowards, dare not name.

The question tumbles in my mind
The selfsame life equation, asking only how...
The selfsame ripping sown. Oh please be kind. And...
"Speak to me. What are you now?"