#2441 -- from purest doubt, the poem

 

2441

7.248

7.ix.26

from purest doubt, the poem

for wise surprise

 

out of the woods where things have no name

out of a kind of oort loud

comes a comet swing – head fire, tail ice

both ends burning

all sing

 

or the whole pond frog

and none know why

from creviced recesses least cling

 

there’s sleep comes back, as in a dream

just a moment, all’s changed

cheese moved

and you were there to witness

 

there’s nothing more innocent than a question

 

keep asking

persistence drives on

 

no one knows what the next line holds

no one knows yet why we’re here

 

at a window tap tapping

out of the green

why does this bird want in?