james wright, to the ohio

[cseresznie.livejournal.com]

This is the not a poem . . .
This is the cold-blooded plea of a homesick vampire
To his brother and friend.
If you do not care one way or another about
The preceding lines,
Please do not go on listening
On any account of mine.
Please leave the poem.
Thank you.
. . .
Work be damned, the kind
Of poetry I want
Is to lie down with my love.
. . .
I don't have anything
Except my brother
And many of our waters in our native country . . .
And when they break,
They break in a woman's body,
They break in your man's heart,
And they break in mine.