August 23, 2011



As Plato knew, has holes. The Poets

Were not allowed refuge in his ideal republic;

A place

Where philosophers were kings

And vice-versa. I have a different idea


words, words, words. They can

Say so much though so much is left


And in the silence between those holes

The space is filled: a gesture, a look,

A universe of meaning. The turn of the lip

And the crinkle of the eye

Show and make and tell

A love that is not just know

But felt, in galaxies unknown to

Astronomers, and organs unfamiliar


The anatomist and words unavailable

To mere philosophers.