Certain Words Must Be Said. Photo by Duane Michals, 1987
AFTER ALL, WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO SAY?
When I sit before a paper
writing my mind turns
in a kind of feminine
madness of chatter;
but to think to see, outside,
in a tenement the walls
of the universe itself
I wait: wait till the sky
appears as it is,
wait for a moment when
the poem itself
is my way of speaking out, not
declaiming of celebrating, yet,
but telling the truth
Allen Ginsberg