I will not write a poem. Unless the poem scribbles itself, I stubbornly stand for the prose unleashed from the uncried tears of a child, unborn yet ready to exist. A child who sees injustice, who fails to understand the lies unless a story’s on the stage, a different one than the reality of life.
For https://dversepoets.com/2018/04/05/openlinknight-217/ Last summer I started writing my thoughts in English. I don’t know why. Phrasing in English, whatever I was experiencing, was not a choice of the ego-mind. It simply came this way, it has been born this way. A cycle of poems entitled Parentheses (The Diary of Renovation) grew out while parentheses became