Three of my friends dived off tall bridges all in the same year landing on frozen rocks and there was yet another friend who leapt from a hot-air balloon and went into a two-mile dive and yet again I read of a friend about whom a book was written often referred to as a lippy little bitch found splashed onto a New York Sidewalk forty storeys below her balcony --and she-- terrified of heights! Sometimes I catch myself staring at full moons tracking them as far as I dare and I wonder if it would be better to fall upward instead and into the cold white embrace.
Reason for writing:
As I get older, I find that seemingly random events eventually start forming patterns;
order within chaos which, frightening enough to perceive, is none-the-less devastating
to one of a paranoiac bent. All the above events inspired me to write the poem, as a sort of
release from the terror of the random. More so that all of these friends died in falling deaths
roughly within the same year that the poet, John Berryman took his own life by jumping from a bridge
in Minneapolis many years ago.
Birth sign: Not entered
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