KEEP PEEKING

Poem for Today - January 19, 2014

PREFACE TO A TWENTY 

VOLUME SUICIDE NOTE

Lately, l’ve become accustomed to the way

The ground opens up and envelops me

Each time I go out to walk the dog.

Or the broad edged silly music the wind

Makes when I run for a bus --

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars,

And each night I get the same number.

And when they will not come to be counted

I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night, I tiptoed up

To my daughter’s room and heard her

TaIking to someone, and when I opened

The door, there was no one there . . .

Only she on her knees,

Peeking into her own clasped hands.

                                                © Leroi Jones 

“Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note” 

by LeRoi Jones: copyright 1961 by LeRoi Jones, 

Corinth Books, New York.