for Robert Creeley
“… but blinds as it blinds
itself through
what it illuminates.”
-- Jean Francois Lyotard
Some times I know
What it is
To be exposed
What I am to be
This dark singing
Under a lamp.
It is not
To do anything
Not what
We would want
To do, as in
Any impulse
But by necessity
To feel everything
Outside inside
The “dark singing
under a lamp"—
as are such burdens.
I know it is to be
Born out by that
Total regard
Of what it is to be
Seeing also
In a light’s edges.
Song,
Of necessity turning
Cast us back
So to think
The lines
Themselves.
*composed Winter-Spring '05
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