To Eric Whitney 1
***
What lies in this?
Are my ears betraying me? My eyes?
Is time betraying me that I have lived?
Crazy creation,
So noble while not young in vain,
At times, shouts the right words
In an ecumenical uproar.
For whom? For the self?
I would like to make the cut where you are,
Look into the insane eyes,
Not move a bit where others are raving,
And holding my awe, self-annihilate.
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