by Mark Fischweicher
As I get older my memory fades.
His name, her name, that place, this.
No matter how I try, I can’t recall.
The emptiness that fills my mind pervades
though some say this aloofness should be my wish
to be detached to let whatever comes to me be all.
I say my nimble wits have never been my ace of spades
My greatest attribute has always been my gibberish
just letting all my fears and cheers flow out without a stall
Not trying too hard to manage all my weird crusades, my escapades.
If I am not remiss, that should be my bliss.
That’s all. I think I’ve hit the wall.
Mark Fischweicher has been involved with poetry all his life. As an elementary, junior high school, high school and adult educator he has published poems at all those levels and has taught courses on the Beats, the Black Mountain Poets, Ezra Pound, and The New York School of Poets.