Look at the bookcase. Strange lives all over.
Each writer “had” or “has” a ghetto inside.
Books say its alright to grieve or fall down in the street
or seek love without talent. What a mystery!
How do you evolve from being a miraculous infant
to become Raskolnikov–where are the baby pictures?
You see? It’s the middle of the life that counts. Start there.
Planet of the Blind 