EUGÈNE GUILLEVICHe dreamed that hands had touched his wounds,
Had washed them with the water from the rock.
—hoyt rogers
I Don’t Speak
I don’t speak for myself,
I don’t speak in my name,
it’s not a question of me.
I’m nothing but
a little life, a lot of pride.
I speak for all that is,
in the name of all that has form and no form.
It’s a question of all that weighs
and all that’s weightless.
I know that everything that surrounds me
longs to go further, to live more intensely,
to die more fully, if dying
is what must be done.
Don’t think you hear inside you
the words and the voice of Guillevic.
It’s the voice of the present moving towards the future,
the voice of the present sounding from under your skin.
—denise levertov