Selected Poems from Jim Carroll

• Some trust the wolf
  they have raised since birth
  not to turn on them.
  
  Some trust their lives
  In the hands whose fingers
  Are five silent lives.
  
  Some will be reminded
  of nothing, or perish
  by that memory.

• The people down
  The hallway who
  Stab each other
  Each Friday night…
  Is that a ritual
  Or just something terribly unresolved?