Tortoises

For all these words have I
                           not spoken,

And for one full summer I let all my hair grow out of my skin;
                              learned to look for things, lost or never had,
                                             to vent stuff you don't vent in poesy,
                                             to grab a bottle by the neck,
                                             to sleep, perchance to dream;

People of the strange cities and stranger skies,
like lightning, crack open my skull. Woe is me:
I've grown a skull around my skull, a heart within my heart,
                                                                      a skin under my skin.

For now I'm too far to be heard, 

                                            I speak,

And yes there were days when all I needed
was a spoon and some hunger
or any excuse to touch your fingers really
                                                          --but that's for another night,
                                                             a completely different story,

Which you only know the half of
Which is why I need to tell you about it.