Thursday, June 22, 2006

& some days

/ the pain rests
be tween my ribs / some where
near my heart / press ing heavy
a gainst the lungs / /

this is no way to die / i think

as i / dig my own grave /

& wonder a bout love making
& why it can't be done

i make love to flowers / talk
in conversational english to grass
taking over the garden beds / my hands
are stain ed / dirt



Lyle Daggett said...

This is just remarkable. I really like this. I like the courage, the raw exposing of long deep pain. However much it may or may not be literally about yourself, which one can't always assume from poems. It *feel* absolutely true and uncompromising in its honesty.

Thanks for posting the poem.

luc u! said...

i love this one too j.

and not just because you made such a remarkable comment on my poem.

the images are resolute and the pain is universal


Pris said...

Absolutely wonderful!!