The Poetry has gone out of me
I am as blank as prose-
There is no force of feeling in me
Flat as a lox my words on the page-
I am the middle of the Midwest
Going on and on on the surface only-
I have no inside-
No wind shakes me-
Words are words and only words,
Detached from all emotion-
How flat stale not even weary and unprofitable can a blank confessional poem be?
The feeling of being without feeling
No feeling at all.
A lox inside and a lox on the page.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS POEM! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! You are a genius!