i write this
blind no experience
no background. write without
the benefit of stanza
verse or prozac. i
write to you:
a thousand words of
poetic translation ultimate
frustration. without bending
or melting myself into
color sound or feeling. without
hiding behind pretty metaphors
or white and glossy symbols. this
is not a poem of bread crumbs:
it will not does not can not
lead you anywhere beyond a now;
beyond a you, beyond an i.
it would be easy to
give you a treasure map that
would lead you along red veins
until you reached the gold X
of memory or to describe the hiss
of steam from your fingerprints
splaying across skin. it would be
simple to fill a page with
silk and syrup…..but
this poem is blind deaf dumb to
that: passionless but slow steady
dripping with want of understanding. it
lacks the juice of early morning kisses
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yaskakaki 