I’m here, I’m nowhere
The house itself is persecuted
into building walls of silence
which it must stand behind, locked in.
Locked inside myself, I haven’t given up.
Give me gibberish, babble, double talk –
let equivocation be sweet on my tongue!
Then a raven croaks: Nevermore!
The gleam vanishes off the world.
This blind, ravening century has put
its mark upon the very bread we eat.
Anything I say will be interpreted
by thugs. The cop on guard outside
is trying to get my spaniel to confess.
From: Censored Poems