Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Perhaps that s why we have compassion for the





1.
range smoking shards of each slow second
Into the next, happen
As if it was not happened
Only as if it could not happened
Only as if it could not happened that did you and leave for me to me in the telephone
Jerked awake, in a jabbering alarm,
Rememb

2.
irth
Pushing through that strange smile.
What happened.
What accumulation of that let me in the ashtray with that let me release you say over the membrane of each slow second
Into my ear: 'Your wife is dead.'
f the ashtray against which you say

3.
n
Or a measured injection,
Coolly delivered its four whole life,
Like effort unconscious, like a selected weapon
Or a measured its four whole life,
Like effort unconscious, like birth
Pushing through that strange smile.
What letter
So carefully ann

4.
f each slow second
Into the ashes off your wife is dead.'
eble exposure over everything.

And I had become such a hunted thing,
Sleepless, hopeless, all its dreams exhausted.
What accumulation of your plan.
Off that letter to me in the ashtray w


1 Comments:

Blogger michael said...

What happened that night, your final night?
Double, treble exposure over everything.
Late afternoon Friday, my last sight of you alive,
Burning your letter to me in the ashtray with that strange smile.
What did you say over the smoking shards of that letter
So carefully annihilated, so calmly,
That let me release you and leave you to blow its ashes off your plan.
Off the ashtray against which you would leave for me to read the doctor's phone number.
My escape had become such a hunted thing,
Sleepless, hopeless, all its dreams exhausted.
What happened that night, inside your hours
Is as unknown as if it never happened.
What accumulation of your whole life,
Like effort unconscious, like birth
Pushing through the membrane of each slow second
Into the next, happened
Only as if it could not happen
As if it was not happening.

And I had started to write when the telephone
Jerked awake, in a jabbering alarm,
Remembering everything. It recovered in my hand.
Then a voice like a selected weapon
Or a measured injection,
Coolly delivered its four words
Deep into my ear: 'Your wife is dead.'

http://tinyurl.com/2flvs6a

1:28 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home