Monthly Archives: January 2007

frags, internals

a grand ole fear

Cannot sleep, afraid of it, afraid of being alone in the dark, of being alone infinitely, of this moment with nothing but your thoughts stretching forward like this, days into nights, night upon night, growing, everything you love dying around you, first your father, then your mother, then your wife, without her, child or children gone, night upon you every where, always hours before the dawn, locked in, time a snail’s pace, it was always this bad, even in albany, a child has changed nothing, losing a child has changed nothing.

she says, “really? For me it’s like, you thought you knew suffering before…”

frags

there is something to this

there is something to this, there is some THING to do this here with. some matter of the imagination, something blue, something sharp, something that catches the light and sharpens it to the eye. makes a thing of it in the dark, splits it open like lightening.

there’s something to this, she says, feeling under her armpit, pushing the fingers in, there’s something here.

and i don’t want to listen to her, have spent a lot of time not listening. who wants to hear oncoming death? who wants to hear the breaking of her and everything she is to me? i don’t want to hear, i don’t want to look at the knuckles buried there, searching. i felt something she says, i felt like my heart died.

there’s something to this that i can no longer do. the lack, the void, the nothing to hold against, the nothing barring, the all bearing. there’s something to this that me as fat as i am, as pale and flabby can no longer do, no longer deserve to do. i need this disconnect, this is nice. being away from here, from all of you. kept away, kept back. at arm’s length and my terms. terminal. at my terms and terminally kept that away. forgotten cargo kept at bay.

i thought of you again today (when have not thought of you?). i said to her: i cannot believe my father is dead. and my eyes welled up. my god, the damage you’ve done to me without having known me, without having ever spoken to me even at the very end. it’s all i can be sometimes: a child you abandoned, a son you never spoke to as he wept and you died.

damage, that’s all i am these days.