The Dice Player Who am I to tell you this? I was never a drenched rock Refined to become a face Nor a cane that has been Perforated by the winds To become a flute I am the dice player At times I win, at times I lose I’m the same as all of you Maybe a little less Not a role I played in what I’ve become If this farm hadn’t been ravaged Maybe I would’ve turned into an olive Or a professor of geography Or an expert in an ant colony Or a guardian Of echoes Who am I to tell you this? I was rewarded more awakenings Not to relish my moony nights But to witness the butchering I survived coincidentally Too small for a shooting target But bigger than a bee, Fluttering amid the fence grass And I worried and worried About my father About my brothers And I worried about a time made of glass And so the fear strolled within me And I strolled in its path Barefoot … hollow Leaving behind my childhood memories And the dreams I had for tomorrow There is no tomorrow There is no tomorrow I walk, I scamper, I run, I go up and down, I scream and wail I rush, slow down and inhale I feel lighter, drier, I stride and fly, I run, I forget I see, I don’t see I remember, hear and behold I fantasize, I hallucinate I whisper and scream I can’t I fall, I rise then collapse, bleed, and I black out.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 08:40:32 +0000
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