Now the midwinter grind
is on me, New York
drills through my nerves,
as I walk
the chew-up street.
At 45
what next, what next
at every corner
I meet my father,
my age, still alive.
father, forgive me
my injuries,
as I forgive
those I
have injured!
You never climbed
mount sion, yet left
dinosaur
d**h-steps on the crust,
where I must