poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Unknown faces in the street 
And winter coming on. I 
Stand in the last moments of 
The city, no more a child, 
Only a man, -- one who has 
Looked upon his own nakedness 
Without shame, and in defeat 
Has seen nothing to bless. 
Touched once, like a plum, I turned 
Rotten in the meat, or like 
The plum blossom I never 
Saw, hard at the edges, burned 
At the first entrance of life, 
And so endured, unreckoned, 
Untaken, with nothing to give. 
The first Jew was God; the second 
Denied him; I am alive.

Added: 25 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 12 Sep 2026 3:49 AM | Viewed: 3944 times

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