FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

i like to write deep from the heart
of me
i need a shovel
perhaps something sharper
like a scalpel
so i can make a probe
a wound and

i like it perhaps when i
bleed
so i can find the words
like a masochist

at first i really wish i were the saddest
sadist
but i have become a feather that lives
in the clouds

always subject to a criticism
i have never been that good as you
but i am
i think
happier

perhaps i like the way this absurdity is taking me
i have grabbed reason for long
it gave me this stern face
this hard jaw
square nose and this feeling that i have opressed myself
that much without pity


i know what they mean now
they mean nothing to me
i know what i mean now
i am nowhere