Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Why Am I Writing?

To show my hands
which are cracked
and bitter
and broken.

To show my face
which stretches down
anchoring my eyes
toward the floor.

To show my body
which has a beauty
beaten into it
from numerous repetitions
and clatterings
on gym machines.

To show my mind
which pops and sings
and sputters and coughs
and dies.

1 comment:

Kim--the Librarian said...

To show my face
which stretches down
anchoring my eyes
toward the floor.


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