Life Fabrics
the threadbare crotch
the bruized leather
wrench destiny
I have travelled too far
to write epic
even my homo heroes and their heroes
cannot tapestry fill
Not enough
scraps
shredded to rag pulp
I have bolts of cloth not yet turned
to tatters by moth boy eyes
I like spelling "bruise" with a "z" — it captures the hurt. I also like how the poem implies there is a long way to go to reach the necessary nakedness to undertake a great undertaking.
And so for day 439
25.02.2008