The Remains

 I empty myself of the names of others.
 I empty my pockets.

I empty my shoes and leave them beside the road.

At night I turn back the clocks;
I open the family album and look at myself as a boy.


What good does it do? The hours have done their job.

I say my own name.
 I say goodbye.

The words follow each other downwind.

I love my wife but send her away.


My parents rise out of their thrones
into the milky rooms of clouds.
 How can I sing?
Time tells me what I am.
 I change and I am the same.

I empty myself of my life and my life remains.

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