2021-01-06 04:06

San Francisco Note 11

(August 2002)

2 (revised)

the fear is my fear
is that I’m living wrong

the wrong friends or no
friends staying in when I

should be out prowling for
the satori of San Francisco

or Minneapolis or Charlottesville ordering
in when I should be

making reservations living someone else’s
life or mine as seen

from some judgmental fool’s point
of view but I am

not a wrong cloud or
a mistaken leaf I am

not a flawed fiction coaxed
from someone’s discarded notebook so

I go on and form
my letters as I choose

and drink this borrowed wine
no one is friendless who

stays free in strange cities
and poetry is always free


poem


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all that's left Williams, p 224. One may defend such a portrait by saying that it condemns the act implicitly, in the very portrayal. But that’s moralizing, posing
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how How. You cannot believe, you can only surmise, by surprise you can guess the correct answer. The question eludes me, so I forget to ask. That’s