Thursday, March 10, 2005

 
Fragment


Sharp, sick man,
each day as little
as you can, much more
you must until
fate buries
its palsied self in each
coincidence:
and curb your line
of sight: it is,
though moving still,
a tomb.
Plain?
:what you see
is not what is
but what you were
is how you saw.
See
sharp, to heal yourself
surgically;
cut off
your cutting;
become uncarved,
not yet
what was.

Comments:
Wow, I actually totally understood this. I like these logic-problem entanglements.
 
Ana,

Thank you for reading. I'm happy you enjoyed it, too!

I really don't try to be so complicatedly awkward, but the words won't hold otherwise. So, I do the best I can.
 
It may be complicated, but it certainly isn't awkward... I think it's fun.
 
Well, that's what I wanted, then. Great!
 
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