April 17, 2008

Poem for April 16, 008 – Written on Going to Sleep

Written on Going to Sleep

— which is the same rule; God
is the first to say
that no thing except nothing,
only nothing, includes all things.
The daffodils are gone from the garden,
their corpses stand on the table,
propped in dead water, as I am.
My knees hurt, and so do my
knuckles, feet, eyes and head.
My hands are chapped, cracked
paws only an artist would paint.
Dandelions have begun migrating
back from wherever they winter;
the roses are still playing
shuffleboard in Miami.
“Fathers have forgotten how to
be whole, mothers how to break,”
the old voice said.
Why should we remember?

The title says it all. I could barely keep the pen in my hand, and had no idea what I was writing.


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