He waits in this emptyroom for a poem or perhaps,here in this garret, a thought from God.The room’s light casts backat him a mask, half in light,one eye—brightenough from shadows, a room wherethere is a this and an is:coffee mug on a desk, deskcluttered but solidwhere a penciled hand scrawlsor waits to scrawl when it … Continue reading The Isolate →