It would be easier for me to stand in

the paralyzing brightness of the center of

the Sun as its multibillion-fold hydrogen bombs

tear down the walls of violence itself,

or to walk at the bottom of the

Marianas Trench and gawk at its

bioluminescent denizens as they undulate in

blind, prehistoric rhythms,

or to fly stark naked

under my own power

to the dark side of the moon

and laugh in the indifferent void,

than it would be for me

to

forgive anyone

and finally let go

of the one possession

I cling to

like a dead man whose hands

are frozen around his own

throat.