Affected
I liked to think that I was worthy
of immortality. I kept
a diary, which I filled with words
I thought were the key
to everything. white warm skin
of his torso in moon light. chuckle
raw red screaming throats
deep & filled with words lungs empty
of air. toboggan, teeth crunching on
snow crystals glass
through which I see the world.
I slide off the snow-covered hill into nowhere
another
dream. I imagine them dissecting
my heart silver knives catching the light
it interests them, this sentimentality
I asked her don't you want
to make sure it isn't forgotten?
no I'm quite happy to just let it go
she said.
Now I imagine dead green preserved
things
glowing eerily in jars.
where is the soul in this? they ask
I let it go.
red pen
I was too self-conscious, he said
till my blood flowed from his pen
He told all those lies to get into my head
I was too self-conscious, he said
marking my work with a river of red
my mother sighed, and said "ah, men"
I was too self- conscious, he said
till my blood flowed from his pen.
Birthday
They gave the birthday boy
shells which he took with warm hands
held them in his clasp and thanked
a vagueness stole over his face
he thought his trembling lip
was smiling but it looked like tears
of joy another year had bitten
dust swallowed a small part of him
gulped a piece of his soul
like birthday cake.
and crumbs, small fragments
of his past remained
squashed in his pocket.
The air show
All that cold day, I was thinking of you
how your eyes would look, against the burning up leaves
and the cracked sky.
I was not thinking about the planes,
machine birds,
but about a very different sort of flight.
The blue heavens spoke to me of forever
and with my numb fingers, exhaling smoke,
I believed them.
They do not fly for the glory of landing
but for the soaring ascent,
when infinity is real.