Burn That Shit

Let this be highlighted in my will
Underlined three times
Copied, faxed, emailed,
Downloaded into the brain robots:


You will find boxes with notes, torn out pages from journals,
Unkind words
Because writers do that: they put down unkind words–
It’s better than putting down the people they love
And you will find print-outs of conversations
Snippets that won’t make sense
And you’ll assume the worst because see above
And there may be some porn
Not much
And ramblings, confessions, heart monitor readings,
Phone numbers of people you don’t know
Secrets of those you do


You will in the recesses of drawers find manuscripts,
Drawings, illustrations, bubble beings,
And you will think that surely, surely this was meant for the world
And when they do your make-up as you get ready for the talk-show
You will believe I said this in a moment of weakness,
Of personal crisis, of doubt and dismay and that if I were there
One foot in the Pet Semetary and the other at your door I’d say,
Thank God for you, you knew me so much better
Than I ever knew myself, bless you, you saint,
You made every wretched word worth writing!


I won’t say it again.
Hear me now from a place of full heart and health and joy
And from behind a smile that is more honest than childhood
And as sane as sunshine
I’m begging you.


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