What I bring is memory
vague in tear
vivid in passion
I hold each open year
apart and somewhat missing
Lofty first
and quite obnoxious
hatched now young
not caring
exactly who was hurt
who was left with bitter sores
as long as I could save me
Numb then
gasping grasping
air hope
nowhere
He grew to this
But when I try to see the boy
I find only sweet confusion
when I try to see the man
I find dreams and dreams alone
when I try to see the soul
I find sleep and only sleep
when I try to see his God
I find him sleeping too
I simply had no idea
that every hurt was building
steps for me to fathom
ways I have been built
The room I remember
hovers in air
windows everywhere
I watch my pen
first poised on paper
then scratching little half-truths
little half-lies
in sighs I jot down
and I taste every word
like Charles like Arthur
like all that went before me
and lent me
precious credence
without them I’m nothing
with them I’m nothing
but I never choose to know
What did they do
between life and life
did they find me too awake
too alive
For they put me
and my memories
in a sack
pain the weft
sex the warp
sleep the string
they tied it well
tossed it over
and back into the world
and left me here to drown
I see a boy
who dreamed he knew
and I’m amazed
that after all that
he stirs again
