Dedicated to my grandmother
First it robbed me of who I was
My name, unnameable baptism of Self
Then it robbed me of what I thought
My mind, inalienable station of Self
Then it robbed me of how old I was
My adulthood, eternal time of Self
Then it robbed me of what I was
Alas, I am here yet I am not
O God, what has happened?
Where am I?
YOU ARE READING
Songs of the Reed
PoetryA repository of various poems that I have written over the years gathered into this publication. Influences range from Whitman, Ginsberg to Shakespeare and Milton and confluence into what is hopefully a larger collection. It'll be updated daily with...
