call and response and call

an overwhelming sadness of :
Can I find myself here,
can I place myself here,
within this constellation of brilliants ?
i, in my heart, feel suddenly grief,
wrath at a million little irritations and compromises,
annoyance with the weight of infractions and that
damn dimming sky

i love and hate the autumn
when it is gloryblue it's
very very blue
but when it is cloudy
it's horrid

i worry
at the fraud of it all
i cannot bear the pressure
of love, it is too much, too hard
too uncertain from within this web of
sins. sins this is what is really certain.
this: i am the greatest of sinners
but even there is pride

the child-me who was really a hag
in soft skin comes to me every winter
all the angst and tenuous grasping
take residence in my muscles now
i want to shatter her

friends, will you hold me
friends will you hold
friends will you
me

i remember fragments of the poetry
i made out of the grimmest seasons
i, i, i lifted my head and wove gold out of dust
it was the most majestic poesis
icarus, the goldenboy, charon,
odysseus and penelope,
the farmer and the dust bowl
they all come back in the winter
they all come back
i hate them those tragedies