Thursday, February 10, 2022

As Wasps Eat the Lettuce

Maybe each angel's offices are different ...

The sunlit hedge wall hangs
Like the leaves of philosophy.

The birds gather seeds on the grass
Like professors in airy classrooms.

The truth is in the movements of the branch
But, as soon as you look, the patterns lapse.

The birds fly away
As if the knowledge disappears

But it is still as transparent or opaque
As the landed sun's gaze placed it

As a response
To words you can't yet form

Whose figurations prove nothing more
Than how clever they were listening.