to thomas merton
it is becoming so complex
that to know one,
we must understand the other
thrown from source
(when we can be quiet in our
security of structures)
poem is not isolate,
not held or made on the page
to define—
to chisel a small or intricate
wood-shape on the unresponding stone
we are the stone
and the recorders; to make a most involved
little-bird-trackings on the page
a wet not-shaped time
I sit
looking at a simple round
heavy joined-breaking of the pillar
niche block,
that once held up the temple
a hand cannot define all
dancing figures,
those close relief forms that made a life;
the individual
held in
cut-into places on the rock