Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Preface To a Twenty Volume Suicide Note By Imamu Amiri Baraka

Preface To a Twenty Volume Suicide Note
By Imamu Amiri Baraka

Lately, I've become accustomed to the way 
The ground opens up and envelopes me 
Each time I go out to walk the dog. 
Or the broad edged silly music the wind 
Makes when I run for a bus... 

Things have come to that. 

And now, each night I count the stars. 
And each night I get the same number. 
And when they will not come to be counted, 
I count the holes they leave. 

Nobody sings anymore. 

And then last night I tiptoed up 
To my daughter's room and heard her 
Talking to someone, and when I opened 
The door, there was no one there... 
Only she on her knees, peeking into 

Her own clasped hands

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2 comments:

erin said...

oh, but i maintain (as you would, i think) that even inside emptiness is presence.

xo
erin

Serena said...

Dearest Dragonfly, I've been absent from blogging for way too long. "Stuff" happened, some of it truly awful, but I AM coming back to my blog. I'm so glad to see YOU'RE still here and doing your wonderful thing.

Happy New Year!
xox