THE POEMS WENT AWAY
The poems went away.
Nothing inside.
An empty will for poetry
Forcing words on the page,
Words without music
Without resonance
Without great implication
Meaning.
Write, write, write
Lest you die.
And the words themselves
A kind of desperate uphill catching of breath
On the page.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great read for those of us compelled to that 'desperate uphill catching of breath.'