Sunday 5/28/2006 09:47:00 PM

You're just an instinct for survival that never faded. A tantrum in the heart of evolution. While I admire the naivete that keeps you strong I can't respect the ignorance that makes it possible.

If you were a bird you'd jump right out of the nest. And when you hit the ground you'd climb back up and do it all over again. But I would stay there close to the earth evaluating what went wrong.

I'd watch you as you kept trying and make it my task to figure out how you could fly.

I like to pretend I am making choices when in reality I am letting things happen. The illusion of control I keep thinking will lead me to the act of. If they call and I don't answer I have won. A stale victory, but it's the only kind I know.

I don't think it's ever over. Just sometimes that there's nothing more we can do. I solve the problem when I'm capable. But take just as much pride in admitting when I'm unable.

She thinks it's her I've stopped caring about, but the truth is I don't care about anything anymore except her.

She can't stand it, I know. This cancer I've given myself. But she doesn't blame me, though she should. Instead she blames herself.

There are so many things I could change about my life. But not this.

The things I do, yes. But not why I do them. You can't stop being my mother. And I can't not be a poet.

1 comments:
Billy Jones said...

Strong, full of emotion, and yes, pain. I think it's the honesty of your work I like best, like a slap in the face sometimes but an honest slap.

Keep wearing out those pencils and thanks for coming by.



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