December 19, 2009
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Questions drown
in an ocean beneath
the seeing eyes
and broken teeth

Questions lye
in a dry desert
without rain
without light
without poverty
with marks

Questions watch
the world spin round
with sound
with color
with destruction

Questions stay
in their throats
in their oceans
their deserts
into an infinite

Questions lye
awake at a
still night
dry and sober
against their drunken
cutting against the ground
and watching the blood
bubble through

Questions sink
in their dandelion
bed, petals snapping
at the weight and
falling to the
a bruise kissed
on their cheek
with the bubbling
green blood

Questions burrow
beneath the bed
beneath the ground
beneath the blood,
staining their words,
their marks with
a green peace
and becoming sharp
knives thrown against
the closed doors
and painted walls

Questions sleep
in the blood
and wait for an
to carve them
into the stone

Questions slay
the edge
of the world
when they speak
their rough speech
and carve their

Questions say
the all
the nothing
the can’t
the lies
the truth
the life
but questions can’t
say me.

“Are you a question or are you a me?”

Questions answer
none of their own
but I can
and I

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