There are so many things I don’t believe…
There are so many things I don’t believe. As in, when rose petals fall on my dead mother’s hair my shadow is more real than my body—mommy is under the ground, go on Stephen, shake your fist, your real fist, shake it and demand a voice you can live with.
I don’t believe pictures on the water. My sister sees gods and angels there. I intend to eat the small fish. I was spoiled for much of life by reading Mallarme when I was young and in the hospital.
And in the evenings I loll like a wooden ship, a weak lantern can be seen if the weather is just right.
Planet of the Blind 