A Proclamation of Sorts

Lately it’s been harder and harder
to find the words
and in truth I don’t really mind
so much
as having something to say eventually
becomes as tiring as everything else
and I’ve reached a point
where I’m no longer too proud
to proclaim my emptiness
I figure we all
have to cop to it eventually
and now more than ever
I just want to dissolve
into the pretty sadness of the day
the perfect gray sky
above the lonely apartment buildings
the glittering shards of rain
and all the ghosts of the forgotten
and the pretty waitress arrives at my table
with a beer on the house
and the kindness of her face
breaks something within me
and I want to fall into her arms
and weep into her breast
for everything good
and everything lost
and everything we have become
and then I figure I should drink
my free beer first
just in case it gets weird.

William Taylor Jr. lives and writes in the Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco. His work has been published widely in journals across the globe, including The New York Quarterly, The Chiron Review, and Catamaran Literary Reader. He is the author of numerous books of poetry, and a collection of short fiction. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee and was a recipient of the 2013 Kathy Acker Award. To Break the Heart of the Sun is his latest collection of poetry.