389
the idea of it
or
guess who the winner is
will it weary
is it a
pendulum
goes truth to
lie
does it turn
the world
can it be
willed
is it a ball
bounced down
to flat
will it roll
off to a corner
is there a
picture of it you can see through
does it
reflect reality
are other
worlds all reached this way
inside out
or upside
down
is it the
wrong way round
golden egg
goose
or well won't
run dry
is it a bird
is it a plane
can it keep
count
can it spell
does it have
a territory
is it a state
of nature
the road that
brought us
was rebuilt
contractors
must tender
does it love
this planet truly
group hug
is there a rough beast slouching
can we get to it on-line
what if we go against
world's
destiny
will it propel us
can we guess yet
is it the smoking gun
the floor falls out from under you
the walls are closing in
an endless list
of what might be questions
simple thing
so hard to
make out
it's like
amoeba expanding
cause why
cause does
it's words
and more
and ugly
faces
jeers and
jibes and slur
if we vote
against it
will it go
away
how was it
won
what was
before
it isn't even
a flag to fly
it doesn't
have a shrine
everyone
sneezes at it
everyone's
sneezing right now
it's the same
cold
you can't
wash your hands enough
heads
together for a pill
somebody else
invents
we live in
the middle
just try not
to guess
it's a dare
it's all
echoes
like a
conversation you can't end
two vans with
loudspeakers
slow through
the streets
how many
hearts each way today
it's always
giving a speech
always
stretching imagination
where you
stand accused
this glass
half empty
with a head
on it
cause nobody
really knows
how to pour
stumps at
dusk
resume
tomorrow
if you can
find the pitch
there's
weather
who won't you
admit to it
who has to be
us
when it kills
at least it's
all of us killing
though I
dissent, I do
or cast
myself informally
vanish into
my own illusion
there's every
chance it turns on you
yes there are
doubts
what works
better than this
does anyone
really know what it's worth
does anyone
remember
where is its
panoply
soft touch
how I have
loved unthinking here
and have I
loved too much
it's bitter
to lose
when winning
is work
is it better
to watch
a legion of
such unbelievers
believe
themselves in a state of freedom
there's
always a weapon with that
like
abandoning the carnival
that grows up
all around
who thinks
that they can walk away
will make
themselves a ghost
a lonely job
for each of us
to cast
ourselves this way
Terrific poem, Kit. While listening to Chris Thile & Brad Mehldau's "The Watcher" on their new thing. Perfect tandem.
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