Burst

July 19, 2007

Peel the layers from me-
onion round,
smooth, and biting.

Maybe it is better to see
with the inner eye
a string of linked dolls-
paper, two dimensional

no, that image never works.

If I slipped my skin once
how easily is it done again…
how easy is it to fly
without wing.

There is passion, there is weeping,
there are gnashing teeth raging
there, somewhere, is needing;
there is me-
there is too much me.