Incomplete and Nagged At (title taken from Dennis Haskell)

Original:

The worst thing [about] being alone under

A tree of stars is… no I’m sorry I cannot twist

My tale by telling you how I did not revel at the loneliness

Of my being alone; and you were—always, actually—probably

With company. When I looked up I remembered

The stones down your hair, I remembered they shone

Quietly enough for one I. Then you told me that if

You placed those stones on a plate they would

Be spilling over with light,

Because of their luster, but you’ve said only

So much about it. Your friends wouldn’t have known

What to say better—you tell me

Not to judge or speak harshly about people, but I would

Neither—either. I know that I’ve known of a kind of

Beauty to myself when I saw, tonight, the same, the sight,

A tree of stars, alone. And the worst thing about being,

The worst thing about being alone

Under a tree of stars is that I may often have to view it

Alone and just quietly enough for one I.

Revision 1:

The worst thing about being alone under
A tree of stars is... wait, let me first tell you
That I reveled at the loneliness of my being alone;
You were--always, actually--probably
With company, and they're always with you.
When I looked up I remembered our youth
And the stones down your hair,
And I remembered that they shone
Quietly enough for one I.
Then you told me that if you placed those stones
On a plate they would be spilling over with light,
Because of their luster,
But you've said only so much about it.
Your friends wouldn't have known
What better to say--you tell me not to judge
Or speak harshly about people, but I would
Neither--either. I know that I've known of
A kind of beauty to myself when I saw,
Tonight, the same, the sight of
A tree of stars, alone.
And the worst thing about being,
And the worst thing about being alone
Under a tree of stars is that
I may often have to view it alone
And just quietly enough for one I.


Note: I do not believe in this poem anymore.