By Bill Yarrow
sure history has been here before
we
the clean-fingered citizens
recognize that even as
the clawing quiet
gnaws
at the knots
of our exhaustion
it’s a matter of Sphinx
and larynx
it’s a matter of saddling
the moment
it is necessary to find
new mirrors to stare into—for they meant
no harm—just obedience
consolidate
(if you can) that magnitude into escape
writhe! writhe, comely life!
handsome is
as handsome does
freedom is
for those who have their stars
under control
tolerance has no
bounds—that seems to bother you
greed has
no bounds—that does bother me
Absolute freedom within relative
limits
is espoused by the mutually
radiant
with the onset
of Neanderthal thunder
comes a Renaissance
rain
somewhere down the line
a snarling dog in the darkness
waits
for a raccoon to leap the fence
somewhere in the visible distance
a stubby shortstop steadies himself
for a high line drive
the moon
bored listening
to the lies
of men
turns its attention to the sea
+ moves
all the purple fish around
an acorn grows into a tree:
it doesn’t turn into a tiger!
as my neighbor says
forget getting anywhere
—just keep running
we have reached
our goal
yes we have reached
our goal
and it is empty
