by Gary Beck
Our tomorrow may perish
while we, sinned against, or sinning,
sleep our fleeting days away.
This sorriest creation clot,
blighted city,
where we whimper longings,
yet consume the future
in bloated feastings
couched and dreamy,
lost in expectations
that make us wait and wait and wait,
until our moment fades.
Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and worked as an art dealer when he couldn't earn a living in the theater.
