The Usual Riffraff

Collage Poem: Saturday, February 3, 2024

OM.2021.051 - Julia Payne - Covid Lockdown #2 - 10 x 7 inches - permanent collection Ontological Museum Archives

The Usual Riffraff

I was neither fish nor fowl
I wasn't one of them
I always felt like an alien.
This isn't unique.
a lineage of the alienated
in a [seemingly] meaningless cosmos
the inside,
fragments of memory,
walking out.

I don't remember much of anything
as if nothing happened at all.
I started floating around,
by a fence with a hole
filled with rabbits.

The usual riffraff
litter the sidewalks and gutters.
No one can do anything.
Nothing changes.

The desire of others
and the sacrificial rituals,
people around here will tell you,
always comes from the other;
the one crossing borders.

The wind is picking up.
The winds and rains
holding nothing back, 
that churn and roar
they must be faced. 
The uncertain and lonely
screaming for relief.
Fear is pointless.

Collage poem from various writings on substack.

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