What can I do but stand with my mouth open, no sound emerging? My lips move and I wave my arms making gestures from the other side of the glass, which I cant penetrate.people can speak out of anything, though the struggle takes years. The problem is, whatever I say about the present feels false-nothing contains it all, or catches the depth of things, or their terrible one-dimensionality.What am I living on? Someone said the other day, that old irrepressible-impossible- hope. And I thought no, this doesnt feel like hope. But maybe thats what hope is, no shining thing but a kind of sustenance, plain as bread, the ordinary thing that feeds us. How could we confuse this optimism, when it has nothing to do with expecting things to get better?Hope has to do with continuing, thats allI can imagine now, where I couldnt before, this long erosion of faith, this steady drawing from ones strength, until whats left is tenuous, transparent.
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About Mark Doty
Mark Doty was a contemporary American poet and memoirist. Mark Doty is an American poet and memoirist best known for his work My Alexandria. He was the winner of the National Book Award for Poetry in 2008. Read more on Wikipedia →