David X Novak
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He Begs Seclusion

10/20/2016

 

Not only will I close the door
    Upon you and your ilk,
But on your century, and more,
    To reel the time, like silk.

I will take residence, to bide
    Within an age long past;
Yours is tomorrow
—we divide,
    And so the die is cast.

With authors whom I read of yore,
    There I will make my home,
And never open up that door
    Through which you never come.

The Russians will become my friends,
    Dear sacred novelists,
And I bide there till my time ends,
    Although my heart resists:

Because I close the door on hope
    Through which you never strode,
But harrowed, hardened, I may cope
    Upon that lonely road.


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