There’s poetry in scribbles
this mass of words,
hairs lodged in the throat
undigested fragments begging to be transcribed.
lifted to light.
Take off the cloak!
Heavy wool, remove it!
naked white shoots pushing up.
Whoever thought they were beneath
all those rotten leaves?
I keep waiting, the shakedown
When everything will unravel, and become less complicated.
In the center of it all, huge bites are taken out,
the body is injured.
There are holes in the fabric of time, no mystery of how that happened.
I did it - what a destroyer - I threw my passport of 1982
away, why I’ll never know.