WEBVTT

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OK.

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Two more poems I'd like to read.

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This one is called "An Attempt
to Understand the Blind Man."

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It's in three sections.

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As always he was right.

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The blind man, whose
face brings to our

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eyes their own dull reflections.

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Behind dark glasses, or at
evening along the street,

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he sifted out of the
walls saying, "Here I am.

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Look me right in the eyes."

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But I was always elsewhere,
evading the dark procession.

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I hoped for the new life.

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I loitered among the
stalled traffic of thieves.

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Time, though forever stopped
at the corner, at the light,

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was nevertheless in sight.

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Today the man with a
white cane, followed

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the man who was not yet me.

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I asked if I could come
along too, wondering

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if this could be the
beginning, the way death

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should start, a determined
entrance into a room.

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In the bedroom, whose face
lay like the sweetest lilac

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in the pillow, the surroundings
were finally familiar,

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the shades pulled,
the mirror is dark.

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We held hands, like lovers.

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The soft sheets cried real
tears, the springs whispering,

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"Here, here, close your eyes."

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Received us like brothers
lost, and someone else's

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autobiography.

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We do the next thing.

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