Poems January 2015
Nor what we mean
We know no thing, nor what we mean.
Physician, break the story of
the stoic ghost in the machine.
Remind us why and how all joys
and sorrows will rely on love.
Compare a harmony to noise,
reveal the seat of memory,
the streams and seas of consciousness,
the dream that dreamed assembly.
Explain the need for symbol, art,
for song, for dance. For violence.
Describe again the chambered heart.
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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 33 Number 5, on page 39
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