I Become the One Who Forgets His Dream Song
For John Berryman
solstice . . .
on the window
There are two voices fighting for the control of my mind. One says, "Just keep writing," and I ask, "writing for whom?" The other whispers in the dark, "for the dead whom you did love."
first light . . .
my copy of The Middle Way
I start to spin the poems of darkness out of falling snow.