There is nothing in me
I am as empty as meaninglessness
Yet I am anxious
I have done nothing today
...
I am taking up space-
The better quality of others
Would have more room without me-
Perhaps it is better that I not write at all
...
WHEN THE LAST POEM IS WRITTEN
When the last poem is written
And there is nothing more to be said
...
As I could when I was young
Now my Sadness is older than all Literature
It has a grave before it
And many graves of friends all around
...
My sense of my own meaninglessness
Suddenly disappeared-
I realized I had done something with my life
I had spoken truly of what I knew and felt-
...
Loved ones and Friends die
So many people are sick,
Worlds disappear
Everything hurts more
...
Another friend is gone
It’s two in a little more than a month
Two people who it was a special pleasure to talk with-
My world grows smaller
...
We can no longer do at the end-
How painful and disappointing then
How difficult
How sad and unhappy
...
There is so much I miss
So many people so many times so many worlds
So much-
We will never wholly be what we are
...
I WROTE A FEW WORDS
I wrote a few words
And the Guilt and the Sadness and the Regret
...