Milosz on a bad day
Thought that he would be quickly replaced
By a stronger wave,
A brighter flame,
A faster flowing stream.
But on a good day
Humility was not his thing.
Even in translation
I am like a yoyo in his hands.
Down and up, down and up
Down and spinning in place,
Up and zinging back and forth
And around and around spinning.
When an older poet dies
There is no one to replace them.
Don't just read the poems they are famous for!
Read the poems they gave to us
Reluctantly, with pain in their eyes.
Read the poem
That gives you courage to keep writing
Because maybe their worst poem
Is like your best.
And maybe the thought even occurs to you
That you yourself
Are irreplaceable.
