we are the hollow men - Lyle Daggett

        we are the hollow men

  deconstructions of gray. looking back
half in shadow, half in near light,
                         severe close-up.
the large round moist eyes
   weary from the chores of interrogation,
                    museum of missing suspects.

        after the fact. reminiscent
                      of a mapplethorpe photo
   of roy cohn late in life:
 face and head sharp lit
                         in dark background, nearly
                                         disembodied,
   face worn and cratered, plagued
         by the failure of years, eyes
  opened wide with shock and haunting,
                   having seen too much,
                                 learned too little.

     here the light is softer, the eyes
   softer, found in sadness, traced
                         in hesitation.
the source of light not apparent, but
a recognition perhaps, the charge
                               of a question.
  a suggestion of movement, or almost,
      or not quite yet.
 the same patchwork, the same haunting,
           the same shell. school
                               of disquiet.
    as when the day's mail arrives.
  as when an alarm sounds, and the room
      empties, and a figure remains
                   solitary, chalk-like,
                listening to the echoes.
clouded day through the large windows.
the place where in the end all words
        break down.
    a look that says
            it has happened before, nearby.

     --after a photograph of Ron Silliman