I wish for heaven to reclaim my vision
For this nullifying darkness to end
Must I hold my flaws above my gifts
Lest I forget, for a moment, to be humble
Must I cling to granite and graphite
The poverty of genius is it a myth?
Can I write the way I smile
With every scintilla of my being
Must I eat only of embittered flesh
To be truly fearless
Happiness scares me the way it elevates
All that is within me buried
Can I write deeply from a greater height?
Is it thoughtless not to remake
When to breathe is so unbearable?
Is it okay to say I accept
When it is I who am mistaken?
Between one extreme and another
I slide quicksilver into a migrant cloud
There is no hero more progressive than sincerity
I am afraid of the lightening for it is
So unlike me to burn with a white light
So unlike me to stretch skeletal wings
In defiance of a prejudicial tempest
To say that I could means so much less than
I have done because I will not recede
In the face of my limitations
Am I too hard on myself
Or do I eschew the legacy of being?
I wrote a discussion piece on Curious Flowers that kind of goes along with this poem. I am little confused today I am just not able to get a decent night’s sleep. Sam said I saw him last night and became really startled like I didn’t recognize him I don’t remember it though