Thursday, April 1, 2010


I don’t need sirens
to be heard. I have spoken
enough. I have entertained listeners
until they can’t hear my words.
I have locked the multitude
of made-up history in its own vision.
I would rather sit here and listen like a page
would for its identity to form
as symbols blotted the vast
unspeakable blank.
As soon as a phrase
was almost written,
I would tell myself
how I will never stand
still – how I can never be
and perfect in the same body.