Saturday, February 23, 2008

Unbelievable 02:02 - knowledgeable poetry
a not ready for The New Yorker poem


All these things around me,
all these thoughts within me,
so much classical weight:

I feel the need to lighten, leave
it at the door, and head
out for the territories. Here,

there’s only empty space and spark
for something greater than a formal
exercise in wit. There’s wisdom

in a single grain of sand
much deeper than a metaphor
for Pan. An emptiness that’s full

of feeling and so thankfully
devoid of thought. No verbs are needed
when it’s clear that all the world’s

a verb, and objects are subjective
to the following. Know this:
there’s nothing to be known.

Son Rivers 2008

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