Let me take
My leave
Of the sun and the fields.
I must go in;
the fog is rising.
I can’t
Go on
Spoiling your life
Any longer.
I don’t
think two people
could have been
happier than
we have been.
For me
much of the world
makes no sense,
but my feelings
about what I am doing
ring loud and clear
To an inner ear and a place
Where there is no self,
Only calm.
Spoken by:
Stanza 1: Miguel Hernandez
Space between stanza one and two: Garcia Lorca
S2: Emily Dickinson
White Space: Osip Mandelstam – if read closely:
Only in Russia
is poetry respected,
it gets people killed.
Is there anywhere
else where poetry is
so common a motive
for murder?
S3 & 4: Virginia Woolf
Space: Henry David Thoreau
Moose Indian
S5 & 6: Wendy O. Williams
Space, Rest: Hart Crane, bloodied,
whispers: Goodbye, everybody!