by Emily Tong

He, drowsy, sits.
Here, I’ll take your hat and are
You thirsty? Do you care?
What brought you to this place?
I can’t remember
All there is is rain
And the lagging lagging
Time, the clock behind or
Too far ahead and no pieces
Fit together there. And here.
Wherever Here is.
Oh, she replies, not
understanding. I see,
not seeing at all.

I see, not seeing at all, my eyes
My sight is arranged before I set
Forth on this day, this fine day, this
Morning glory of a fine day.
Nothing I see is unseen, nothing I know
Is unknown.

Nothing known is unknown, and nothing seen,
What then is felt? If nothing bright in knowledge or view,
Where is the spark? What heart could
Tell? none better, none well enough
Could say what has already been said a thousand times;
And Still
There is no difference. Simply variation.

Variation without difference is
In the rain.
And in the waves
And the sand and stars. Variation.
Even music repeats itself. There is no shame in a
Repeated gesture
Only shame in doing without
Thinking. In ignoring the obvious thirst. In
Taking a seat without realizing


Posted on 09/28/2008
Copyright © 2023 Emily Tong

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 09/29/08 at 05:42 AM

I think I like IV most of all. The whole thing has a really sharp, nicely done cinematic feel going for it. Or at something to do with a burst of snapshots. Loved it.

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