I have no desire to eat,
When the dollar keeps
getting higher,
Another night of fighting sleep,
Father, my eyes are so tired,
So much time I've wasted,
I haven't done enough,
enough to make my life count.

Dear Jesus, I can feel your pain,
Does this ink bleed in vain,
I don't understand...
why I can't let go,
if it's all in your hands,
I'm not complaining,
Yet I can't explain it.

Before I could careless,
if tomorrow never came,
Now it's different,
I worry if I close my eyes,
that they won't open to see another
blue sky,
Oh Jesus, does it even matter at all,
since you already know who will & who won't fall.
Will my soul still breathe,
if my body, it should leave.

I can't breathe in,
My thoughts are spinning,
I need a bite to eat,
I need some sleep,
But I'm afraid I'll miss a chance
to fix what I broke in the past.

Father, my eyes are too tired,
too weak to weep,
I won't risk losing a chance,
by closing these eyes tonight,
Don't let this ink bleed in vain,
show me how to do it right,
and I will this time.

I don't know how to let go
of things I don't own, of thing's
I didn't know,
I don't know how to let go
of what thing's that I have,
I don't know how to let go
of the thing's I know.
I know You are in control,
Oh God, I'm in debt,
Make me pay what I owe
before from my body,
it's time for my soul to go.

"write a poem,"

Sylvia Plath commanded summer before last.
Her voice in all places I looked.
Avoided and silenced letters
Crawled in front of my mind and knocked on my skull:
A polite entry into their society with a family,
Other words in Gregorian chant:
You cannot undo insanity in the third decade.

I tell the others, the eyes around me, that these words
Feel like birth announced just now,
With no time to prepare or plan, to nest and caress
The down feathery face, or kiss his tiny mouth.

A poem emerges with a scream,
Bony hands encircling my throat and pushing
Into formation. The existence of new words--
Always the ones in the language before,
Though in this birth the roots twist under the tree.