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Static Poems
Deafness to imperatives is profundity in the wise man, children and grandchildren don’t bother him, don’t alarm him. To represent a particular outlook, to act, to travel hither and yon are all signs of a world that doesn’t see clearly. In front of my window —wise man says— is a valley where shadows pool, two poplars mark a path, leading you will know where to. Perspective is another word for stasis: you draw lines, they ramify like a creeper— tendrils explode— and they disburse crows in swarms in the winter red of early dawns then let them settle— you will know—for whom.