"I am a professional Poet. As you have probably by now determined, in the late twentieth century, in America, it is impossible for a professional Poet to exist. From this, you can draw your own conclusions."

THE ETERNAL REFUGEE
(c) 1998 by Eno Nevsky

How does one know
that one has been finally accepted?
Is is the absence, for a few days,
of the proddings of bayonets?
And some warm food cooked by someone
who actually smiles at you
for no particular reason?

The eternal refugee
has once been thrown out
for a crime of sheer identity
And again been thrown out
for no crime at all
And again been placed
on a human garbage heap
of a camp somewhere with no name
and no press releases
and no theatre

The eternal refugee
is lost in the distance
of the considerations of most people
is somewhere else on the planet,
can't be here.
Because here we have a Good Neighborhood.

The eternal refugee
knocks on a door
and then must wait to see whether or not
a machine gun pokes out from a window.

Wars do manage to end somehow --
if nothing else they run out of ammunition
But scars of wars
and refugees
remain forever on the landscape.

SILENT WATCHER

He watches everything.
There you see him blending in to the wall of the bar,
watching the dancers.
Another time you see him out on the corner of Larmier Street,
watching the derelicts.
Then you can see him on a purposeless journey through Denver,
watching the traffic.

If someone should dare to speak to him,
he will throw them off.
He will say, "Didn't i know you in Franistoid?
Or was it maybe Paristol?"
They will leave, bewildered and confused.
What they don't know is that
with every word he says,
he is trying to kill someone.

-- Eno Nevsky

WRITING TO THE AIR... Part 1
by Eno Nevsky

Pictures here.
Places I like to stay
Places to bring children with
the right excuse...
Time and money,
meaning nothing.
Old songs,
meaning everything.

Sometime on another world doubtless we will sing an old song
together,
with no doubt about the meaning
As several moons burst into the chorus
and gods grow rich and ripe from the fertile soil.

IN SOLITARY

After a while, you get used to it
That a Being could exist,
without light, air, or communication.
Yes, it is difficult, but at the end,
Assuming there is a spark of Goodness in you,
You will know these things:
Where you stand,
That you are,
Who you really are.

All selections (c)1997 by Eno Nevsky