I am tired and I want to sleep

I want to beat any drum its loudest

beat my heart its strongest

I want to be an unmade man

who loves

I want to sigh

inhale the world's air

exhale wind to a brief vacuum

empty for an instant

a hollow clarity

I want to recognize my reflection

in this glass

I want an "at last . . ."


I often sit and stir the air with my hand

and of course nothing moves

the chairs, street lamps, houses, nations

do not rumble from this hint at movement


But when inanimate objects speak to me

I am frozen


axphixiated by fear



What I am and may not be


A powerful guess

damnable mystery


< go back to Poetry