Ringing sound of silence
whispers
a deluge of nostalgia
uproots
the ground beneath my feet
flies
the unsettling thoughts of abandonment
unravel
the twisted knots of ambition
drown
... in the ringing sound of silence.

It escapes from the creeks
of responsibilities
of ambitions
tired; defeated
covered in the shroud of
grief

It escapes
to never return
to the barren land
of hollow dreams

It escapes
the charades
of wearing masks
of dreary pretence

It escapes -
the innocent child
of wild spirit
that longed
to be free

I want to lay bare the fire in me
before the spectators
I want to be the wisps of smoke
flying through their faces
unfettered
unfazed
liberating what lies entrapped
forever.

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a **** lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

resting by the door
the bittersweet memory
ruffles at every wind
of nonchalance

breathes the nostalgic
ruthlessness
in the canopy of peace

I'll burn my crackers.
Why should I abstain?
Let the animals whimper
I don't care for their pain!

I'll burn my crackers
The pleasure is insane!
Let the world die a little
I don't care the blame!

I'll burn my crackers
You should try the same!
Let your neighbours envy
That's how you rise to fame!

I'll burn my crackers
Don't you dare complain
Let the old bicker
I'll not stop the flame!