(after Rilke: KLAGE)
Do not follow me
for where I am going--
it is not yet your time.
But if you do go now
you will never know
what it means
to look into the stars
and wonder
which one am I
among the many
that shine so brightly.
Do not remind me
of what you know
about love and life
and pain and sorrow.
You only think
that these are things
we can both touch,
words that make gentle poetry.
You can not imagine
the tangle of bones.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
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