RETURN by ?
2012/07/26
The Title Page
Poem 18
A good friend passed away today
Quite unexpectedly
A bit of a bad luck there
But these things happen
It was nobody’s fault really
He was taken by
A dark presence
We keep his things in a shoebox
On our
mantelpiece
NOTE: "dark presence" has been underlined. Written next to the poem: "E didn't find this funny".
Poem 16
Inside this shoebox we killed for
There is
We don’t know what
Neat stacks of hundred dollar bills
Jewels like stars
The dreams of those who’ve slept in this town
The dream of this town (when we open it, the dreamer will wake,
and we, all part of his dream, will be gone)
Our wishes come true
The power to punch a hole into the universe
Inside this shoebox we killed for
There is
Countless wor(l)ds
Inside this shoebox we killed for
There is
No cat, poisoned or otherwise, dead or living, undead, un-cat
Baleful spirits
All the evils of the world
No hope
Nothing
Darkness
NOTE: lines "A coffee thermos / A flashlight / A box of ammo / Two pages of poems, all crossed out. Written below the poem: "E can't see it. He's view is too narrow, limited. It's not a lake, it's an ocean, darkness before the act of creation, before the Big Bang, darkness upon the face of the deep, upon the face of the waters, before light, before the primeval atom, before the word, before THE POEM. I can be a creator, the creator. It has happened before, and it will happen again, many times."
Poem 14
Tightrope walking
Would you choose
A safety net
That traps you
And kills the thrill
Thin weave of wires
Slices your flesh
I must prefer
The dark air in-between
Soft shadows
Hug you gently
All the way to the
ground
NOTE: written below the poem is a quote: "Which are you drinking? The water or the wave?" and the name of the author: "John Fowles".
Poem 13
I came looking for
my princess
Instead I found a
witch wearing her face
No one in the family
Had noticed the
change
She said:
“She becomes me.”
Through all the
wicked things she did
To me, her beauty
kept me in a daze
I stared at her
adoringly and forgot how she used to be
As she tortured me
for days and days
She said:
”She becomes me.”
”She becomes me.”
Isn’t it strange
that with every wound
She’s caused her
beauty in the mirror fades
I hear she’s already
looking for another pretty girl
To put on in the old
one’s place
She said:
“She becomes me.”
We’re both so thin
We wear our
skeletons on the outside
She becomes me
NOTE: written below the poem: "B offended, thought this was about her, of course it's not".