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writing is translation
this piece is writing me
it’s writing itself out

even thoughts come
on waves of words
death by knife,
death by lack of movement

words return to pull me out

what is translatable?
pools of dark emotion
surround my feet
my mind is empty
what more can words say?

just so long as death
stays away long enough
for me to know you

Your Name, Your Name

the pool is calmer now
a cemetery in the garden
translation’s my only chance
to understand who i really am

where is God?
and what is all around?
and where else is there left to go?

in the end
you touched my mind,
and finally,
there was nothing left to say

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