I, who am mostly small And was supposed to be just insignificant, Was never much of a face. So weird being changed By the contagious childhood prayers. It's been a while since I feared birth And the masonry gargoyles. It's been a while since I've resolved And self-inscribed into the archways. Screw being wasted mid-scream, Screw being wasted at all. After this I always failed to enter looking for the ending. Maybe I was born wrong, But in any case I was born.
My eyes are furnace-red. Was I born to stand down or am I being tugged and dragged? One hand rives the other as I write a common poem, But at least the birds are freed and fed. I am part of the bunch that never stopped migrating. If the wind is warm and wraps us hard, We fight through songs of grief So that our flight goes far. We become sharper And the pain that would before wound us Now falls in the form of rain. I checked the language of the mountain To see if I still was pronouncing it the right way. It was the same, I was the same, But sharper and further away.
Out and greenly afar I am wind-bellowed. Under my dreams possessed, I am an only barren meadow. The sand drops on everything And I smile at the rest. I am home to beaches of stone Under my dreams unguessed. I will not stop at your hand, I will not stop at the Edge. My feet will be there staking, My feet will make me stand. Now that I'm off the thick zest And into a buzzing mortal scheme, I take scissors to my seams And stand under my dreams undressed.
That I may cease to nothingness on the shore Of my unreflecting love, That I may never live to be more than the high-piled books Inside my teeming brain, That I may forget to sail the still chords Of your lulling eyes, That I may strengthen my darkness divine.