Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.98

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	Mornings like this I awaken and wonder How I have moved so far, how I have moved so little And yet in essence stayed the same Always passionate for the unattainable For Joan Baez to make me her analyst, To tour Ireland with Eddie and Finbar Furey To be made a Chevalier des Palmes for translating Milosz. I remember one road, many roads I did not take And my heart lurches and my stomach turns At the vertigo of mystery At the simplicity of childhood And its melancholy At the silence of the moors Beckoning, unreachable, tormenting me As I lie helpless at the border of infirmity With my soul burning and brimming over With adolescent passion. Only analysis with its symmetries and asymmetries Exactness and paradox, scientific as Heisenberg's Principle of Uncertainty, yet various as the shades of Monet, Eases me. I think of those I have known and know no longer, Who have died needlessly, disappeared irrevocably Or changed beyond recognition. I think of the bridge, river and streets Of my Montmartre, gone under and made over Into the grey utilities of trade, the empty road, Sad as telegraph poles, my Sacr? Coeur silent and boarded up. My Seine empty of the barges of D?rain My Sorbonne absorbed, its students gone Mornings like this, I awaken and wonder.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required