My swirling wants. Your frozen lips. <br />The grammar turned and attacked me. <br />Themes, written under duress. <br />Emptiness of the notations. <br /> <br />They gave me a drug that slowed the healing of wounds. <br /> <br />I want you to see this before I leave: <br />the experience of repetition as death <br />the failure of criticism to locate the pain <br />the poster in the bus that said: <br />my bleeding is under control <br /> <br />A red plant in a cemetary of plastic wreaths. <br /> <br />A last attempt: the language is a dialect called metaphor. <br />These images go unglossed: hair, glacier, flashlight. <br />When I think of a landscape I am thinking of a time. <br />When I talk of taking a trip I mean forever. <br />I could say: those mountains have a meaning <br />but further than that I could not say. <br /> <br />To do something very common, in my own way.<br /><br />Adrienne Rich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-valediction-forbidding-mourning-2/
