Tuche & Automaton

Sunday, December 31, 2006

New Year

This time last year,
I was in a coma,
I was dead to the world.

I wasn't alive.

All I could hear were the plastic sheets.

I thought I was a project.

I thought I was a project of tubes.

I wondered if I was alive.

This time last year,
I was in a coma,
Dying.
Leaving the world.

It wasn't terrifying.
It was a release.

To fly across ceilings,
With no movement.
Even my breathing was controlled by bags and concertina air,
I thought that life was white.
Like music.

I went into different places.
I went up into the sky.

I saw everything in white.

A New Year,
Or a New Year,
Or a New Year,
Or just:

Wake up
Wake up
Don't sleep forever.

1 Comments:

At 3:29 AM, Blogger saltyfeline said...

Aristole (he stole what?!) said..

darkness, light, stillness, and movement originate in one another & each exists potentially in each or something like that.. at anyrate a beaut EEEE full poem and the movement of light was not lost on me.

xo,
Tash

 

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