On Ambition

I am lord of nothing

at thirty two

and unwilling,

no,

incapable

to accept this as reality

then the cocaine hits

and I write the poem

I always dreamed to write

deserved to write, and

then leave it

on the patio table

in the rain

and wake up

to smeared ink

half smoked cigarettes

and pulp.

I own nothing worth owning

at thirty two,

besides

this mont blanc meisterstuck pen

a mint UK pressing of the double vinyl

1969 VELVET UNDERGROUND WITH LOU REED

a signed copy of

HOWL AND OTHER POEMS

a damn good idea for a novel

and this 3 gram bag of brilliance

My strength,

I’m told,

is a diverse set

of skills

yet I am lord

of nothing

but myself and

this suits me well

for my plan

has always been

not to make it

long enough

to reap the rotten fruits

of all this nothing that I sow.

Afton Light, 2020