David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

Riff on Gajanan Mishra True Poem


In that time
When Poetry is coming to me
What is the shape
What is the size
Who is there to say
I am okay
As I desire;

How many poems have I written?
Who is there to explain it from the beginning?
Who is there to question and to ponder?
Only poetry can be enjoyed like the sight of a gazelle;
No one is here to judge
Only poetry can answer poetry.

I have eyes, I can see;
I have ears, I can hear;
I have hands but what can I offer?
Nothing, Nothing, Nothing, answers the sky,
And it is echoing in the air in the life
And in the timeless sentences
You are uttering, not uttering,
My dear

Submitted: Sunday, February 17, 2013
Edited: Sunday, February 17, 2013

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