Search This Blog

Monday, January 25, 2010

Poem: Insomnia After the Conversation

I wrote this poem about thirteen years ago for a graduate poetry class I was taking at Rutgers in Camden.  The poetry professor made the commment that the poem, particularly the last line, was reminiscent of Sappho Sappho: A New Translation

Insomnia After the Conversation

This is whole,
right here, right now.
Kill me then.  I can't breathe
with the night bearing down
and down, giving birth to nothing
but minutes.
I know.  Pain now, wisdom later.
f that.  I've only got one here,
one now.  The grand lie:
I breathe, eat, sleep.  I can survive.
Make all the whiteness disapper; I can't take this
Your voice. You convinced me no one is real.
Good job.  now I believe in death, in loss, in change.
I hate you, or what I've made of you, full of messages.
Damn.  Where's the source?  Where's the all?
My pillow is flat.  The blankets twisted.
The moon is too bright.  I can't sleep.

1 comment:

  1. Nice work. I like the immediacy of this piece.

    "giving birth to nothing
    but minutes."

    That's a nice crisp line. Bravo!