25.

Poem Dec 7th, 2002

the vast importance of soul
melts in the burning light.

Man creates God
and like a forgotten masterpiece

watches God fence man to his sins.
How clever is man to create

meaning out of his self-hatred.
How ill is his breath to bloody

the seeds of life with ragged
tribes and words written

to broken bone.

From where he is to where
he began, he strings an ending

together.

The sense of this world is
the scar of war, the agony of birth

that grows man to be frightened.
Man dies at the hands of deception,

Man is the darkness he runs from.

Until he ceases to forget,
he restores nothing.

lament poem, Dec. 2002

dark so dark the shadows have been torn down
& the gloom walks before us, like clear sandpaper
& we try so try to find the good, the good in us,
the good in all

but the very sweet is a memory, a page, a bright, empty
unsaid memory
&
the good plays with the serpents of our memory
& the dark drinks the sun so daytime falls deeper
into the earth &

the earth is where everything must grow where
everything must open whether it is blossoms of
truth or gathering memory

everything must grow before the ripped shadows
have been spread like a nursery of memory
for the very last time.