Poetry, then, is not an answer
But only a process
A drawing down into the self
During hypnosis I drift my
Conscious mind down, down
To the silt-silked bottom
Of a tranquil lake
Having myself lie, still and serene
With the great calm weight of the
Water pressing full around me
Like poetry
I wear glasses now
With an intellectual look
That others admire
And every day I ask myself
Who am I?
8-26-07
(After reading an interview with
new Poet Laureate Charles Simic.)
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