Philosophia Perennis

written by

« Reload image

I turned: quivering yellow stars in blackness 
I wept: how speech may save a woman
The picture changes & promises the heroine 
That nighttime & meditation are a mirage

To discuss pro & contra here is mute
Do I not love you, day?
A pure output of teleological intentions
& she babbles, developing a picture-theory of language

Do I not play the delicate game of language? 
yes, & it is antecedent to the affairs of the world: 
The dish, the mop, the stove, the bed, the marriage 
& surges forth the world in which I love

I and I and I and I and I and I, infinitely reversible 
Yet never secure in the long morning texture
A poor existing woman-being, accept her broken heart 
& yet the earth is divinity, the sky is divinity
The nomads walk & walk.

© Anne Waldman