it is human memory wont be long
sit still this light is a don't-ask-don't-tell occurrence
it winds its dark elbow along the cool crack of sky
the quickest route wont bring you home
“I know Momma, but it has been ten years now”
nothing grows its all brick
wont be long but it has been
try again walk harder this life
when you least expect it
will one day be so beautiful to you.
James Diaz considers poetry to be his small act of survival. For as long as can remember, writing has been a part of his world, his healing potion, his attempt to find out who he is. If he were not a poet he would most likely be a song. Other poems of his can be found in Ditch, Cheap Pop Lit, Pismire and Collective Exile.