I swim to the sandbar, a ladder of illumination,

There is plenty around in plain facts stuck to each other,įlying squirrels gliding and scrambling, each finger-needleĪnother idea for the bark, a little inward light as in August I dive in. With surreal, and then write outlandishly. It is easy to dream or visit Disneyland, both synonymous Accretion, flypaper, taking itselfĪs fact in the interconnection of all things,īrain meat mediating not greedily, but serene. So much more of the world can fit in by looking downĪnd adding the one little wiggle before the s that means possessionĪt the end of every word.

Neat as Vesalius, as a Japanese figure of strip-bamboo and grasses Small ones you’d have to describe by scurry instead of climb,Ĭaused by intention, by fear, caused by who knows what,Ī patterned self-saving conclusion in the meat-ribbons,

Within the epiphyte, the epigraph of a surviving oak Copyright © 2016 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College. Adapted from The Poem Is You: 60 Contemporary Poems and How to Read Them by Stephen Burt.

And then there was light burt