Have faith. Illusions exist.
They can be winnowed like chaff
From the real. Know what chaff is?
Eat raw. Speak of your sorrow.
Write of your grief. Do not sound
The sea-floor’s rifts of beliefs.
Why don’t you pay attention
To what I say to myself
When I read? We are afraid
That at bottom the monster
That scares us doesn’t exist,
That we won’t care what we mean
If not one word really is.
We will never be better
Than this. Something, however,
Will be better than we were,
If you insist. I would curse
In small walnut coracles
Of water-repellent words,
If my curses could carry
Anyone safely to shore.
(Another arrow can be
Imagined as motionless
At this point in this instant.)
Have you ever hit someone
In the face with your closed fist?
For real? Yes. Riddle me this.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.