marcin
(Marcin)
#1
being unmasked: “Yes, I am / and I am not
here / [...] I wait / in my hiding place for a
sign / I hide to be caught.” The hiding place
is the cocoon in which solitude is cultivated.
Outside it, but nowhere else, lives the other
(nature, surroundings, people) to which the
cocoon feel it must open. The inventory of
relics runs through memory’s archive,
becomes symbol of a revised anthropology
and the cause of an existential restlessness
that leads to a vagabond destiny. For this
reason the poet renounces the paper world
of dreams and, along with it, the world
typical of traditional vernacular poetry, in
order to attest his different way of
reclaiming private song in dialect, with the
torment of contemporary life experienced in
the closed space of his nest in contact with
the things he loves, the secret pacts, and
again the books: “I always take along / a