All The Nameless Lost

Sometimes the world seems little more
than a gradual falling apart
a disintegration
in slow motion

all the good people I know
fighting just to find
a piece of the world
to hold onto

pinned like insects
beneath the weight
of days past
days yet to come
and this moment now

this moment now

and the moon over Phoenix
and the moon over San Francisco
are one and the same
and just as lonely

I have no god
so I offer up my prayers
to anyone who listen

and I imagine this wine
not as the blood
of Christ
but of all the nameless lost
who came before

and tonight these 3 a.m. songs

are for you
and for me
and anyone else

who needs them.

William Taylor Jr.
(New Poetry)