Here’s a poem
Without any reader
Or purpose beyond
Seeming vacant
Of any such hope
Worth engaging
Left inside these words
Being said

To extend their reach
Over meaning
Where beauty resides
Feeling doubtful
If between each line
Trying harder
There is nothing
But anger instead

While the sadness
Grows so unruly
Always needing
Another disaster
When inspired verse
Quickly tires
From appropriate dreams
Never met

Through expression
Lacking all faith
But seizing forms
Merely leaping
Over longer spans
Getting questioned
By my reckless thoughts
Seeking God

Whose damning voice
Only edits
Since our blatant truths
Remain sinful
Still appearing wrong
Like a subtext
Between phrases
Honestly lost

Ever echoing
Judgments implied
Yet afraid how pain
Offers penance
Even better than hope
Hardly noticed
Just attempting art
Yet again.

• J. Pigno