Untitled (a poem by Franz Wright, from his book ILL LIT)

If I think I have problems
I look in the mirror;
I go to the window, or
ponder the future reduced
to more or less
three pounds of haunted meat.
And it’s never
like I always said:
if you don’t want something
wish for it . . .
Lost in the beautiful world
I can no longer perceive
but only, now and then,
or recall–
First the long sinister youth
and then the dying man
who talks to old friends
teachers, doctors
but they don’t understand
the way we feel.


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