Friday, April 3, 2009

For My Father

from a dream about my father:
" are you alive?"
" no. my eyes hurt"

Seven years
since you quit this scene.
You were tired.
And the pain was sharp.
Of seeing this world
through your heart.
Now -- light and relief
for not having to endure
this misprint,
this slip
of the world.
And get hoarse, bored
from shouting at lies.
I always knew it wasn't the heart.
It was always the eyes.

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