I don’t remember my father. My mother told me he was a peasant poet. I asked her if we had any of his poems. My mother said he didn’t write them down, he spoke them out in the open air. And then I asked her if she remembered any of his poems. And she said no. At the time that made me angry. My mother’s negligence and forgetting. But now I think that’s exactly what makes my father’s poems good, more pure, more poetic, absolutely transcendental, much better poems.
