Intro
...I didn't kill myself
When things went wrong
I didn't turn
To drugs or teaching
I tried to sleep
But when I couldn't sleep
I learned to write
I learned to write
What might be read
On nights like this
By one like me
I Left
I left a woman waiting
I met her sometime later
She said, your eyes are dead
What happened to you, lover?
And since she spoke the truth to me
I tried to answer truthfully
Whatever happened to my eyes
Happened to your beauty
There are some men
There are some men
who should have mountains
to bear their names through time
Grave markers are not high enough
or green
and sons go far away
to lose the fist
their father’s hand will always be
I had a friend
he lived and died in mighty silence
and with dignity
left no book son or lover to mourn.
Nor is this a mourning song
but only a naming of this mountain
on which I walk
fragrant, dark and softly white
under the pale of mist
I name this mountain after him.
Your eyes
Your eyes are very strong
They try to cripple me
You put all your strength
into your eyes
because you do not know
how to be a hero
You have mistaken your ideal
It is not a hero
but a tyrant
you long to become
Therefore weakness
is your most attractive quality
I have no plans for you
Your dangerous black eyes
fasten on the nearest girl
or the nearest mirror
as you go hopefully
from profession to profession.
No comments:
Post a Comment