Wednesday, February 16, 2011

How It Was in the Dark

When the soap that melts your skin no longer cleans

And the sleep that fills your veins no longer reaches your mind

It’s like climbing the impossible mountain

to speak to the man who sits there always

and upon arrival, finding him in bed, unable to move.

He looks past you to a coming storm and says:

I am more or less upset with the sun

for arriving too early and leaving too late.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

The brilliance of this has dawned on me slowly, only through reading and rereading. Think what it means for a piece of writing that it just becomes more amazing with every subsequent review...

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