The poem of the mind begins
from imitation, the sufficient finding
of ourselves in others, of language in mind
the poetry of the heart begins
from adoration, the theater of possession
when all the scripts repeat
the scenes shift with insatiable actors
I slowly construct my new stage
the poem begins with delicate listening
a repetition of silence between each vowel
with an invisible audience that cares
the poem of the mind beings after modern poetry
ended with a souvenir of free-verse
when everyone became a sufficient poet
confessing to learn the speech of themselves
now I will never know exactly how to write myself
though it is fun to make metaphysics my business
and in sudden righteousness, pretend I’m more than a spark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem