Happy Millennium!
you only get to write that once
and he did at
0229 January One Twothousand
hes transcribing but he has the original textthe cahier
he wrote for himself with his eyes
cast to the future for his daughters and
if they decided to have children his grandchildren
it did creep into his skull that his grandchildren might be idiotsmight
be told what they could or couldnt do that
they might be illiteratecouldnt write or read they wouldnt need towould they
a creeping suspicion like a vile slinking insect crossing his face neck and throatdown his back that he couldnt kill because he was boundtied
tight an expendable prisoner
not that he would ever be hed die first that wasnt bravado some things are worth dying for
Nationalistic coke
pops or venous heroin arent
he wrote
. . it seems that this first
missive of the century in which Ill die is going to have to be the first of a
series of notebooks cahiers that I can only hope will survive me
two large cahiers Ive written are
now missing
two large portions of my life
which goes to show – someone need
not die to lose their life
mourning
isnt for the dead
mourning is that portion of you
that you hope they take with them and remember
portions shared together
that will be shined
on walls the way they were remembered by fallible human memory
like facets cut on
a gem or prism
theyve died
but they breathed in
rememberers faces and are only kept
alive by their stories being told and also understanding that they can no longer tell the stories they remember of you
and therefore pieces of you have also died
I would like to think that my missing
cahiers will be restoredreturned
but we often want things we
cant have
0229, 1 1. 2000
1542, Day-between-Two-Ts, 27 5.
20
