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Collected Poetry

    (rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

Beating Heart, Dancing Feet  

  Serial Melancholy 


The level of sensitivity with which one
pursues his or her life, or, from which

he or she views this life is not something
we share.  It is certain we do not share

equally.  What else could be the lasting point
of justice?  For instance, when I was young

I thought I was immortal.  And in some sense
that was probably true.  But there were so many

queer things about this world, so many people
whose demeanor seemed moot or too-charged that

I watched them until I could see how a person
might grow sick from this life, or even from
      the thought of it.



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