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Monday, August 16, 2004

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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