Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Nietzsche and the Martyr (a new poem)

My hope is in ashes.

Maps are flat so we can see
a Globe that was
never meant to be held…
in a single vision.
What is a map that is should escape the fire?

My hope is in ashes.

When wings, from shells, break free
cocoons lie on the floor.
new worlds are seen…
more perfect than before.
What is my body that it should escape the fire?

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