Tuesday, January 9, 2007

The Poet's Hovel (I)


Today I looked inside a book
So I could hide my hands
Which shook for reasons I refuse to see
For things I wish unknown to me
For indiscretions past and near
For old repressions milky-clear
The acts I saw another do
Who had no soul and spoke not true
I shrink from all those days and nights
Rent rooms in words that others write

And keep the shades drawn from the light.


HM 2007

0 comments: