45 I GIVE UP MY IDENTITY My name is smaller than it sounds. I work & polish it until a light shines through. I thrust a thorn under my tongue. I drop the little stones behind me. Striding I can feel my height extend up to the rafters. My voice is thin, still thinner is the space between my footsteps & the earth. I do not want you calling me except at the allotted times. I scratch my head because I know it's empty. Hot & cold are equal terms. I give up my identity to write to you. The notice on the board says:
Tuesday, April 23
Tuesday, April 23
Tuesday, April 23
45 I GIVE UP MY IDENTITY My name is smaller than it sounds. I work & polish it until a light shines through. I thrust a thorn under my tongue. I drop the little stones behind me. Striding I can feel my height extend up to the rafters. My voice is thin, still thinner is the space between my footsteps & the earth. I do not want you calling me except at the allotted times. I scratch my head because I know it's empty. Hot & cold are equal terms. I give up my identity to write to you. The notice on the board says: