29.

Poem – march 2008

My room is littered with doctors notes
And I live out my anxiety
In dreams covered in glass
I think of everyone who has died in my family
I cover them in light
but I’m too tired to pray
My mother sits in a hospital room needing an artery
graft
Her blood is clogged
And they want to cut off her leg
Outside her window the packed snow glimmers with light
And the soot of backed up traffic
Blackens the salted puddles underneath.
This room, my floor is made of skin
From crawling on my knees
I want to disappear
But mother needs me
She’s bigger than my life


Aug 08 once

Once a boy and now no longer
Once believing in the whole,
now a fragrant landscape
Is left of memory
From the cracks in the soul
Curved and beautiful
A perfect sadness
Reclaims its childhood
Once a boy and now no longer
So many years
So many years waiting
For ceremonies
For giddy love
to be wanted
From the surviving tenderness
Of youth
So many tears have left their footprints
On the mirror each morning reflects
So many
gathered, they evaporate
Like fate itself