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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required FROM THE HOURGLASS OF FORGETTING From the shattered hourglass of the moment, I tumbled into forgetting, like an echo crushed beneath its own song, bitter and unrelenting, I drew across my face a hollow mask, born of breaking, through the monumental dust of dreams, toward an unmaking. I sank into the dry sea of silent eyes, chained to the shadow of my own beast, lost and crucified, a hope inside your storm — an illusory, empty horizon — with the net of betrayal on my shoulders, my faith a blind corolla, frozen. When I tear myself from the past the way clay leaves a palm, struck low and cowardly, with a deafening cry — a journey, a psalm — I will have crushed you, like clay that forgets it was once stone, and in my silence — a traveler who burns, and turns toward home alone. I run, I hide my eyes beneath moons that never circle back, among your dark dreams — miracles with wings along a crumbling track, flight to waste — a broken wing! — like the flower that lies, that it will bloom again beneath a sky of burning ash and cries. Melancholic thoughts — unacceptable, belonging to my living — indecipherable lines, written with fingernails on stars, unforgiving, I lose myself, always, in your strange waiting, like a witness to my own night — the sentence of a silent counter's business. And the sand from the shattered hourglass no longer knows how to fall, each second — a mute cry in a mouth of jade, a hall, while you remain a wound that doesn't know how to be a wound, I — an echo searching for its source, from dawn to dusk, untuned.
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