1.
The spider I hit,
loose thread on the floor,
clenches its fist.
The cat lies down;
it looks at me
as if through a window.

                  2.
I’m a coat hangar
twisted by rage.

                  3.
Everything shrinks from my hands—
that landscape threatened by planes,
a woman’s astonished face.

                  4.
I served the giant
who ate the villages,
whose arms swept aside
the stars like raindrops
on a windshield;
who broke the sky,
man’s sacred mirror,
and promised peace…

                  5.
I did these things for freedom,
endless as a boulevard
where all the lights are green.

                  6.
My car won’t start.
Dead leaves follow me—
they’re scribbling my name

                  7.
I’m a swastika, the headless man
whose iron limbs grind the world.

                  8.
I want to change.
Even a wall gets painted again.

1979

 = Daniel Myers