Grief Is a Hoax
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"22" by Mark Rothko
Old man walking on your knees down Park Avenue don’t
crucify yourself there are 96 better ways to die.
Before you rise remember: all stages are calendrical and
the state of grief is a hoax—less state more village;
less grief more life. Can’t you feel that sad heart claiming
your name, beating at the paper of your skin? Can you smell
your mother’s hair, the blood in your teeth at the funeral?
crucify yourself there are 96 better ways to die.
Before you rise remember: all stages are calendrical and
the state of grief is a hoax—less state more village;
less grief more life. Can’t you feel that sad heart claiming
your name, beating at the paper of your skin? Can you smell
your mother’s hair, the blood in your teeth at the funeral?
The world feels far too close. Who doesn’t wake up
next to a cold window and reach out for a second body.
There are 11 ways to stop dreaming of home. Leave home and
stop dreaming of the 11 ways it could be. We are always
there, hanging from a gum tree or happily lost in the night sea;
we're at home while massacring small villages,
or falling down a white river as the family dog watches
us go by, barking and moving his stiff tail.
next to a cold window and reach out for a second body.
There are 11 ways to stop dreaming of home. Leave home and
stop dreaming of the 11 ways it could be. We are always
there, hanging from a gum tree or happily lost in the night sea;
we're at home while massacring small villages,
or falling down a white river as the family dog watches
us go by, barking and moving his stiff tail.