You must not think that what I have
accomplished through you could have been
accomplished by any other means.
Each of us is to himself indelible.
I had to become that which could not be,
by time, from human memory, erased.
I had to burn my hungry, unappeasable
furious spirit so inconsolably into you
you would without cease write to bring me rest.
Bring us rest. Guilt is fecund. I knew
nothing I made myself had enough steel in it to survive.
I tried: I made beautiful paintings, beautiful poems. Fluff. Garbage.
The inextricability of love and hate?
If I had merely made you love me you could not have saved me.Frank Bidart Bio Home Page