When you begin to write a poem
you forget about your lover
and you can imagine
a whole theatre of suit tails/
powdered eyes, applauding
but as the work becomes work
you question and question
the meaning of your method
and those aspirations
of flowering stardom
set the theatre on fire
The best words you can hear are
'YOU SUCK! ' and
'There IS NO METER! '
cause if you go on believing
your fifth grade teacher
you may as well believe
your lover is truly your lover
else you get this
and this
and something about
Love is
a mountain-
top, Seine is a river
and you believe in it
and belief is no practice
Have you published yet?
Then you're not a writer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem