Three
for Lenore and remembering Ann Quin


Suddenly to be in the mind of a poet is too much to ask
a poet to be.
It would rather be outside what it is.
One would rather be outside where he is.
Would she rather be outside where she is.
She walked off into the ocean allowing the waves to take their way.
Their way was hers, she accepted, she was outside
What she was. She was inside everything that said
You can be at peace with yourself and write.
No longer must you war between your writing & your peace of mind.
Before you could only have one, but not the other.
Now you are washed away and you and I have a difficult
peace.
I wonder if you come in in any way through the sound of the electric heater
rattling.
It used to be the door would blow open & I knew you came in
to understand
And go beyond where the poet was. I am crazy all alone but for
Lenore.


Sonnet 30 from Renew Anew/9Feb93#2