The Things of This World
The things of this world have gone a remove while fasting as if through a kind of glazed window just out of reach which…
I lay my body down.
Light occupies its place in space
aslant the brown town.
I leave a bone in the room.
The bone blooms. It’s got buds now,
buds of love, fuchsia petals hanging down.
Color in the dark corner.
Red of fuchsia against black.
O the town’s music draws me out
like the whistle of a single tone.
The room is now the whole world
filled with bloom.
I can’t go on. It draws me back.
Out and back incessant rhythm
like a bone xylophone.
Death and life and life and death
occupy a single zone.
I lay my body down before the wakeup call
that calls each soul back home.
When I will leave my bone
in a dark place.
Go on alone
where first light shone.
10/26/98 (from Some)