a year of rejections
from the life destroying
to the more
mundane decisions
my art was not
good enough

i can only assume
there is a lesson
in this as well

but the depression
has swallowed
any sense
of learning

my heart
is not enough
my soul
is too tattered
my words
ring hollow
my mind
is drifting
in the silt of another
riverbed that seemed
to flow
towards

home.