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Poem of the Week

It

How will I know any of it,
The long and the short of it,
The end of it,
Or the beginning of it?
The crux of it?

Birth?
Death?
Ah, the in-between of it.

Instinct;
I guessed it:
Knowing that it is all
Shit,
Acknowledging it
deep in the gut,
Feeling it,
kneeling,
Kowtowing to it,
And reading it,
Writ large on the brain.

How do you know any of it?
Do you know any of it?
Does any of it make any sense to you?

Don’t tell me.
I don’t want to hear it.

-

-

John Twomey

Posted at November 18, 2006 02:05 PM

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