like the voice of sylvia plath

today was a terrible day.
whatever was birthed at 8am, was mugged by 4:08
like a reverse crescendo of dvorak’s 9 th , what was growing lovely – slowly and holy,
erupted lava of human shit
it can’t all be pretty or filled with hope, redemption is not a daily gift,
sometimes it ain’t gonna be alright
the knot ‘round my neck the scar on my heart feels familiar
sounds familiar like the voice of sylvia plath
so tonight i have nothing to give but these words and the blood on my shirt,
darkened and wet
darkened and wet

Carlos Carrio

Where Is Thomas Merton?
i always…