WEBVTT

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"My Life."

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I thought I would
write a series of poems

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called "My Life, My Death."

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I've written those.

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[LAUGHTER]

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Your life, your death, their
life, their death and so on

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and so forth.

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I never really got that
for them, but I wrote a few

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and it's sort of a set.

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"My Life."

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"The huge doll of my
body refuses to rise.

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I am the toy of women.

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My mother would prop
me up for her friends.

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"Talk, talk," she would beg.

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I moved my mouth, but
words did not come.

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My wife took me
down from the shelf.

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I lay in her arms.

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"We suffer the sickness of
self," she would whisper.

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And I lay there dumb.

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Now my daughter gives
me a plastic nurser

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filled with water.

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"You are my real
baby," she says.

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Poor child!

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I look into the brown
mirrors of her eyes

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and see myself diminishing,
sinking down to a depth

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she does not know is there.

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Out of breath, I
will not rise again.

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I grow into my death.

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My life is small
and getting smaller.

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The world is green.

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Nothing is all."

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