Death
By the time i get there i will have known how
to make the fragments of unripped papers burn out
in countable flames, turning them out in full brown
color, codes and css printmarks that with abeyance,
seek a truth only a lie could necessitate
to make the minutes hours, days to minutes and time
per se
as an irrevocable walk of seventy nine naked-eyed infants
in my infanticide's line
to remake a self and contradict its self to summon, to awaken
a long lost apparition
to pity my own ligt and technical mundanes to arrive firm and fit
at your very hearing plague
these and more you will find in vicarious mode
as you follow what must have been death before
but today your own precept for life:
the coarse course of my corpse
to make the fragments of unripped papers burn out
in countable flames, turning them out in full brown
color, codes and css printmarks that with abeyance,
seek a truth only a lie could necessitate
to make the minutes hours, days to minutes and time
per se
as an irrevocable walk of seventy nine naked-eyed infants
in my infanticide's line
to remake a self and contradict its self to summon, to awaken
a long lost apparition
to pity my own ligt and technical mundanes to arrive firm and fit
at your very hearing plague
these and more you will find in vicarious mode
as you follow what must have been death before
but today your own precept for life:
the coarse course of my corpse
Labels: Sylvia Plath
Post a Comment