Not Yet

I would not want

to write poetry,

not yet.

It is not time.

The vampires

wait in prey,

very much like

Old Europe.

I would not want

my flesh exposed,

ready for the kill.

Let me

in the meantime

lurk

in the logic

of the essay,

studying the enemy

like God

                               

In pursuit of sin.

                     

                         

                          

December 12, 2000

                    

                 


© 2006-2020 All rights reserved