These Things Anger Me by Brian Rihlmann


outside, the light has faded
the clock reads 8 p.m. on a Sunday
and i am not happy about that
not at all
and yes, my friend,
it is entirely possible to be angry
at this relentless turning
of the earth

and i wonder if you were
as equable as you seemed
in your assertions
about the inevitable corruption
of men and republics
and their slide
into empire and dust

probably not
because no one is
at least no one caught
in the chaos and confusion
of this slow avalanche

but i picture you
walking the headlands
near your fortress of stone
gazing out from a cliff
over the blue sea
listening to the roar of the surf
and smiling, just like i do
when i am so far away from it all

©2019 Brian Rihlmann


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Brian Rihlmann was born in NJ, and currently lives in Reno, NV. He writes mostly semi autobiographical, confessional free verse. Folk poetry…for folks. He has been published in Constellate Magazine, Poppy Road Review, Cajun Mutt Press, The Rye Whiskey Review and has an upcoming piece in The American Journal Of Poetry.


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