Archive for May, 2015
Hold this match still. Hold it high.
How light always exceeds itself.
The poetry of this pasture,
despite the smell of tobacco—
indeed—a cigar—a Cuban—
a light that is always ash white—
deceives the eye as well as the nose.
You think it’s night, don’t you?
You think it’s a field of soybeans.
You fool the eye, and, look, you fool no one.
The rain has remade a solemn forest into
a jolly field of microbes that no one still alive
can smell or taste, much less see or hear.
Hence the poem, this poem.
Only it can discern the rain as it redraws reality
in this ultimate darkness. Only it can see
the world without poetry.
How it grows, glows.