February 19, 2015Lennon Lyric
Even picking up the dry-cleaning, even
chewing the Eucharist or at home chewing
thought, he thinks can anyone hear my thought?
Hello, he says to passersby, hello,
without a word, but they continue without
a glance. It’s like he thinks his voice is an
unneeded glut, and language too unneeded.
But when he avoids language he thinks but
words keep cropping up, which of course are words
so language must be to thinking what so
many stones are to quarries or many
steps are to a path and to lose your step
what’s that? To wander into the brush of what’s
not? And what would your feet be if they’re not
feet, which is to say could you trust your feet
if they weren’t called feet to carry you if
the path you’re on’s not a path but words and the
it we them everything’s a part of it.
from #45 - Fall 2014