Because we all want to write more poems.
Translation
I am not sure there is anything to be said,
Perhaps recollection loses salience on the page,
The letters, simply what they are, no mysteries
Hidden among diverse syllables and phrases.
A search for roots offers little enlightenment,
Subsequent ancient text translations are
Equally moribund, confuse the issue of
What can be said, what has been said.
Yet, words bind the moment’s emotion
In its full, ragged, rapturous sensibility,
An effort to assure a narrative
Otherwise forever lost,
Forever unsaid.
- Clayton Medeiros's Shared Poems
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