m y t h - II

poetry home


I. Past

Once I was long
When I woke up in
the morning, I
was startled to feel
my flesh still about me.
The pearls of my
teeth lost their
nacre and my eyes
jumbled in their

II. Present

Now I'm here and
joy is broken open
like an egg still
warm from the hen.
Sadness is my
childhood self, still
beating on my
heart's door.
Quietness comes from
a shadowy mirror
image, when I try
to remember who
I am.

III. Future

Soon I will be a
god of small things,
owner of ocean
bodies contained
in my own flesh.
I will walk out
over fields of my
own making, crop lines
cut on poets paper.
I will tell the
truth when you
ask me to.

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