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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
July 2002
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helma object publisher


Tuesday, 16. July 2002

Ex: A Symphony in Three Movements


[1]
Exs,
I gather them like those
old highways, on an atlas,
that I had once possessed.
Since I have one too many,
do I have to invent a novel
scheme to number them perhaps 
just like the interstaes? 
EX 1, EX 2 and so on.

[2]
Tonight my thoughts travel
with the undulations of my heart.
They refuse to see that all the roads
have been boarded up, that the gates
of the fort have been risen and it's
useless to lay seige against walls
that are impenetratable. So they dash into
sheer stone. They are sucide bombers
wedded to a doctrine of despair,
asking questions: why can't 
you ex-tend
                me love?
and ex-cuse 
                my mistakes?
Again and again.

[3]
Ex is a versatile prefix,
predating and prevading
all my nightmares.
Ex as in Ex 
              pulsion
throw me out, on my ass.
Ex as in Ex
              communication
burn me at stake.
Ex as in Ex
              cution
you can't kill me for 
I am already dead.

-------------------------------------------------
2002:07:16 01:30 Atlanta



My Poems

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