The rain is filling up my shoes,
I can't see
through my glasses,
Rain all inside me.
it's not like
I can see
past it
anyway.
I can't sleep
I can't sleep
I can't sleep
Move the sheets.
Flip the pillow.
No,
No,
No,
No,
No,
No,
No.
Can't sleep
Never sleep.
But why bother,
When I sleep I don't dream
Or,
I don't remember them.
8
Get out of bed.
Rest my back against
The bedroom door.
Maybe if I breathe
real deep,
My arms
will
let go
of
my waist.
The hardwood floor is cold, but
I like to walk on it barefoot.
It kind of
feels refreshing.
Rain
bedroom window
I open the blinds
I shut the blinds.
Rain on the window.
I let go of my waist,
This time,
And push my hair back.
Can you see the mark?
Unzip my head from the front
To the back.
Try to see what is inside it
I think some rain got in,
I can feel a damp draft.
Help me find it?
The repetition of words and actions is effective in the piece.
Like how this moves on the page.
And push my hair back.
Can you see the mark?
Unzip my head from the front
To the back.
Nice.
Not sure it requires/commands all the space it falls through but I do like the images and sounds. The opening lines/figure have great presence and power.
I like:
the repetition of "I can't sleep"
and the way it connects, beginning to end with "Rain all inside me." / "I think some rain got in,"