" my inescapable entourage of Charles Simic x The Hour of Poetry
We were never formally introduced.
I had no idea how many there were.
It was like a discreet entourage
of local angels and demons
that I had met before
and then mostly forgotten.

In moments of danger, they rarely appeared.
Where did they all go?
One night I asked a criminal
who held a knife to my throat,
but even he was frightened,
and let me go without a word.

Disconcerting, chilling
to have to think about one’s own solitude,
like opening a children’s book –
having nothing better to do – reading about the stars,
who can afford to take centuries
to reach us on a glimmer of light.

my inescapable entourage
Charles Simic.
We were never formally introduced.
I had no idea how many there were.
It was like a discreet entourage
of local angels and demons
that I had met before
and then mostly forgotten.

In moments of danger, they rarely appeared.
Where did they all go?
One night I asked a criminal
who held a knife to my throat,
but even he was frightened,
and let me go without a word.

Disconcerting, chilling
to have to think about one’s own solitude,
like opening a children’s book –
having nothing better to do – reading about the stars,
who can afford to take centuries
to reach us on a glimmer of light."