"In a field I am the absence of field"
-Mark Strand in his poem, Keeping Things Whole
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In a field
I am an intruder into
the fullness of the field
In my absence
the field is the real field
My presences assaults
the essence of the field
The field does not have the same feelings
when I am in or out of the field
Wherever I am
I disturb my surroundings
I rob the realness of the things
The world I see is not the world
that would exist in my absence
Simply being of myself
the world changes by itself
So no wonder to each of us
a thing may mean a different thing
The degree of which is how much
we rob the realness of the thing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem