at the workshop
i have become another
stranger
i am many strangers actually
to many strangers
those you take a short glance
and walk away
you are teaching them how to write
you are teaching them to like you
you are trying to make more strangers
in this small hall of famers
they cannot be like you though they
may like you for a moment
but only for a moment for after this
free meal and free association
they all go out to become free verses
again
wild in their own surroundings
and would not even know that in their
happy wanderings they are actually
dying......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem