1I miss myself - I miss the way
The rain tasted a few days ago -
And the way the wind used to blow -
Only eons away.
So take me, North Wind, and tear me to pieces,
Spread my sweet essence right through past the flames-
Catharse me - oh, burn me! - of logic and names,
Of what my soul misses.
I'll gather my white bones off your frozen pyre
And piece them together to form one again,
To seek the exsistence in which to remain,
But heat and desire.
But please come and paste back a glass in shards broken
And make the cracks vanish, the pain fade away -
And fill it with minute dark seeds of pure poppy
Then count them and spread them in no disarray;
Please rewrite the verses of my poem forgotten
Endow them with words I that once made obey
The innovate workings of my mind forgotten
In order to form what I wanted to say.
But will I be still here, or will a pale copy
Take roots in my valley and my role now play ...
For how can a maelstrom of mixed-up emotions
Slow down so gently and come back to stay?