the poetry reading

i go to the great

library

to a large immense room

with dim

lighting

but good sound to hear

the prolific

poet

read his prose and rhyme.

he's old

now, but still cranking

them out.

a new book

each year it seems.

it's strange

to read in public what

was written

in private

with tears

and blood coming out

and yet he

does it well.

detached from the pain

he put down.