!DOCTYPE html> html> head lang=”en-US”> title>He who creates re-creates himself by T. Wignesan/title> /div> div itemprop=”genre” id=”content”> p> for René Passeron/p> p> You may not grow old too soonbr /> ifbr /> Things you have known will come back to you againbr /> No revision nor recall need put them back in place/p> p> Time was when you knew the time the place the facebr /> Even the scarce women in prized moments gone in pain/p> p>Who would care nor what would it matterbr /> in which life upon what waterbr /> you have trailed your fingersbr /> upon waves of papers/p> p>Let your mind brushbr /> some canvas in a rushbr /> Left your markbr /> upon some barkbr /> Wed some wanton womenbr /> spawned wholesome omens/p> p>Made as if the artier your wordsbr /> held some moment in a perennial framebr /> Never to be banged away by fading sunsbr /> collapsing quasarsbr /> asteroid stormsbr /> puncturing galaxiesbr /> usurping black holes/p> p>Can this act of writing seize the momentbr /> Or is it your way of saying/p> p> What else is there to be done?/p> p>Let the unknowable undermine the unknown/p> p> Here on this planetbr /> we have made our sinuous conventionsbr /> stick to paper and canvasbr /> stone and sound/p> p> And words that are haloedbr /> by the sickness of the poetbr /> though all is not lost for the penbr /> whose blood willbr /> possess anchor expose/p> p> our futile justificationsbr /> explicationsbr /> ratiocinationsbr /> doctoral dissertations/p> p> And generations will tremulously grant himbr /> The right to unravel the eternitiesbr /> For one who dared capture the momentbr /> In the capsule of a poem/p> br> /body> /html>
