ForkWord
Poems by Inchiki
The light at the end of the tunnel
I lie on the floor
describing something...
"some people don't see the light
at the end of the tunnel -
they only see the tunnel"
the fucking sticky kitchen lino sticks its
dried rice grains into me
but we are deep in some philo-sophy
[in the morning i have to get up and do my job
)but that is an aside
first sort this matter out
who is death? God heard.
I swim down through my friend's half closed eyes
there is liquor in there. i had it
but i don't have it any more
that is the seed of destruction
so beautiful, golden, i have to lie
to get whatever
tiny little hand, cool pale fingers like bone
i used to collect bones, i'd scrape the dried
hair off and arrange them in the garage
among the car parts. ha ha we'd laugh ---"
i'm not like them that can pretend ...
maybe i'm dumb --- i think i'm just happy"
i had the answer once
but it can't have been that important
because i seem to have misplaced it
so congregate round, here is the sorry story
it's not the end of your life that matters
losing something can be important too
it's not all about having things
or even it's not like there is a difference
between having something and not or that
the moment one loses or gains is anything
but the same moment - the moment you
see the light at the end of the tunnel
