It is of course better than any of the alleged poems in that book I reviewed, but beyond that is it worthwhile to persons besides myself, je vous le demande.
How many roads lead to Heaven?
If you trip on the bridge, do you fall?
Had some event marked her,
did a single moment fix her to that chair?
Or had a slow accretion, a maze
of impasses melded her bones to the rock?
It may be either or both, as damage comes at every speed
and the effect is the same
We caught fragments of tales but dreamed of loving
an object that would look across at us and not be set
above or below.
A diamond or a comet, perhaps
a fiery gem that would hit us right in the chest
They wanted to tell each other about themselves
sat in twin chairs and rehearsed
What really happened, do you remember,
did you see, was it true? I had heard,
can we know, did he love me, should we call.
Sitting in chairs they repeated fragments.
Interiors once deep, dissolved slowly
They threw and caught lines but
did not hold out their hands
a fiery gem was desirable indeed
We are sifting fragments,
the fragments are of bone.
How many roads lead ahead,
if you trip on the bridge
we are sifting fragments,
the fragments are of bone
the stories have been lost
the fragments told their own
How many roads lead
a world of texture and gaps
figures falling to darkness
settling to the ground