Is it true the moment of my dying (which has borrowed
so much brightness from the sun) will demand
such satisfaction from me that I will be
blinded by my own last words?
I keep trying to persuade my father
into a better opinion of me now that he is dead.
Call them God if you must
these messengers that bring hard evidence
of what I once was and where I have been…
3 a.m: Startled again in the mirror by my huge head.
What great assemblies must come to order
before summer can begin?
Where is the bronze statue to the drunk
who shared a cell
in the Concord jail with Thoreau?
Which do crows find most ridiculous, our laughter or our applause? Beware of the pelican that ignores you. Not yet having formed the waters what had God eaten … Continue reading