Today I’m putting on my heaviest coat,

my mittens, boots, and woolen socks,

and I will lie out on my roof  in the ninety-degree heat, 

until I have either burned or melted away. 

And when finally

finally

all that is left is a puddle of sweat

(or maybe a pile of ash),

I will see what it is 

that makes me myself. 

Maybe I will find that I 

am not quite so complicated.

…some water, or some dirt. 

Then, maybe I will feel through myself

and say, This is me. This is me.

In all my rioting thoughts 

and screaming contradictions, maybe (hopefully)

all I come down to, 

all I amount to, 

all I am,

is a simple mixture of ash and water.  

• 2002