WE WILL ALL DIE IN THE MIDDLE
We will all die in the middle
Never knowing how it will continue-
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WRITING POETRY / AS A WAY OF LIFE
Writing Poetry
As a way of life
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A POET WHO CAN THINK ONLY OF POETRY
A poet who can think only of Poetry
And write only of Poems
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A POEM HAS A MEMORY OF ITS OWN
A poem has a memory of is own
It has a music and a melody
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AND I DON’T HAVE / THEIR KIND OF WORDS
And I don’t have
Their kind of words.
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I WALK DOWN THE HILL OF MY OWN LONELINESS
I walk down the hill of my own loneliness
It is a sad hill
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THERE IS A POEM WHICH IS NOT A POEM
There is a poem which is not a poem
Its mind breaks its music
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I may not be a very good poet
But I am a poet
Poetry is in me
The poetry of others
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More than the Truth
We want the News
That makes us feel better
About ourselves-
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Envy even in Old Age
Is a sin-
Is it their fault that others worked all their lives
And have good pensions now?
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