I’ve already tried
to seek answers
in all the great books
erstwhile banned in these parts
but somehow contraband copies
always seem to seep thru borders
Yet in spite my best intentions
I found the solutions proffered
to be somewhat lacking
in meaning and substance
Laying in bed
with jasmine incense burning
staring at the ceiling
yet I find myself
questioning my faith
and examining my life
not seeking solace
in Blake
or Nietzsche and Dostoevski
but just wallowing in July heat
expecting better
and getting this instead
7-29-2001