Apr 2013
this is not a poem
it is a question
what makes you think you're so remarkably
invincible, and chasing rays of light until they die away?
what makes me cling to this
disquieting momentum, this moon-absorbing, hateful creature?
this is not a poem
it is a question
why can i not detect the seconds
of high voltage danger, and why-
why do i pour my heart
out to a stranger?
why
°°°
this used to be a question-
turning to an answer, though, and tapping
at my chamber door, pronouncing
with a clear voice - and with rain-drops bouncing off the window pane -
the word:
because*.
it is a question
what makes you think you're so remarkably
invincible, and chasing rays of light until they die away?
what makes me cling to this
disquieting momentum, this moon-absorbing, hateful creature?
this is not a poem
it is a question
why can i not detect the seconds
of high voltage danger, and why-
why do i pour my heart
out to a stranger?
why
°°°
this used to be a question-
turning to an answer, though, and tapping
at my chamber door, pronouncing
with a clear voice - and with rain-drops bouncing off the window pane -
the word:
because*.
(Here and Now)
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