Jan G. Otterstrom F.

Home About Jan Poems Books Order Online Gallery



Rubbing the pages of my diary
with a residue of ink, fictive sketch
developing text, so much left
between the lines, judged as though
I knew, what I was doing, standards
of textual deconstruction invented
after the fact, beyond the word
and its referent, condemning me
my imaginative life, never defined
as who I am, yet tension between
presence and absence, criticism
of difference ingrained, ineluctable
prophecy of my incompetence.

Jan G. Otterstrom F. 7/24/2012