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