Tuesday, 01 September 2009




How are you doing
Up there on Parnassus
Donne, Marvell, Rochester, Raleigh
You who wrote poems
With the left hand only? 

When you come close
Blind Homer
Senses your presence.
He turns away
To talk to Milton,
Equally blind. 

Do you feel uneasy
Among all these
Who made it a lifework? 

You are not liked them.
You look out idly
From your shining mountain
And see the world
With its rage and folly,
Tears and laughter. 

Sometimes, but rarely,
That incorporeal
Impatient left hand
Finds itself longing
To seize a pen.


This site was last updated 01-09-2009