Friday, February 24, 2012


We think we are being watched
As we ourselves watch
Or would watch, if we could keep silent,
If the sound of the distance wasn't so acute,
The look of smoke so beautiful.

Ideas spring into being like fog
And disappear when the light dissolves them.
Why must we face reality
When we will turn it into illusion anyway?

The debaucheries of judgment
Seem so out of synch with the force
Like a tuning fork through the trees.
Transparence is all around us;
We see nothing.

The light leads the blind
Away from the need of sight.

To be set adrift, facing all but one's own mind
Or be caught in the oblivion of ubiquity;
To search for the frail orange light
In the windows at dusk,
Or be absorbed in the deepening blue.

Rain types on the leaves,
Sparrows drop as the trees breathe.
The ground is a sponge with flowing veins
Flooding down the grass unable to constrain it.

Let us go to the river, and disappear,
Dissolve like domes of bug bubble in the fern-patterned flow,
Feel the eons passing.
We would starve here if, while feeling fish twist
Through our bloodstream, feeling the cold omnipotence
Of intertwining windbreaks, we did not also
Have these tricks of perception
Which allow us to picture a net
Where we see the fish swimming.

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