from The Lost Canadian, Vol.2… ‘Paper Cancer’


 

 

 

 

 

I’m dying of a paper cancer, folded
smaller by the night; the
envelope of sky no address
you can find me by in the cold
stars that burn –
the old way no one’s ever been:
and lived to tell except through change,
the ceaseless unforgiving motion rearranges

But damn this contrary maze, that
does not allow recognition
of paralysis due to denial and desire;
dampening, then fueling every fire
toward the one I most hunger for – sabotage
requires no other device than this
sin of omission: dividing myself,
from the knowledge to which I aspire

©Dean Baker

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