ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 4
NEW SORROWS EVERY DAY
the birds flying through my head
encounter no obstacle
one at a time they approach
mountains in the distance
cities cluttering fat bottoms of the mountains
lights of the cities glaring up at the birds
my head arches over them
content to show its stars
occasionally a piece of it breaks off
and passes through the body of a bird
I have turned round and round in my head
wrecked amongst my nerves and
as I just told you we will not
escape this
though how I can be so sure
when there isn't a clash of sunlight
on water to guide me
and out where the waves make mountains
cities of fish fly off
into a dark below
mimic of dark above
and the birds with their caustic cries
separate into contentious subflocks
and my head divides into its strict echoes
with the sure thing lying dead between them
I don't know