POEM X
(for Czeslaw Milosz)
Will you condemn me in absentia
If I didn't live, If I survived
If I had reason, if my survival had no reason...
My memory's healed, it never bled
I was here, berating language
Never a poet, never respecting language
I searched for something else
Year 2000, some ass, some jerk of My Youth
I had no style, my speech was for no acceptance
I was not you, might as well be for you
What will your words tell me
What will they bear witness to
If in exile you left me
In a world that ceased to exist
What is Real? Where is Truth?
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