This is a short poem by a friend of mine, a poet from Washington
by the name of Mark Halperin.
It's a very short eight line poem about John
Clare the romantic poet, English romantic poet, who
has spent a good deal of his adult life in a mental hospital
and apparently fairly pleasant stay.
He had the run of the estate, I guess,
and it's just a very nice short poem.
"John Clare."
Sometimes there is a man, I never
feel him come but he is who I am, and I am someone.
He does not care to stay, if we are both John Clare,
why does he go away and where and where?