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Know the sufferings even though there is nothing to know.-The Lord Buddha
(Bukkyo Dendo Kyokai)
There is no excuse for sadness consider
the starving the lilies the children of the field
who toil not neither are they happy
She is one who brings the weight
of industrial ingenuity to bear on a small
object of art
She is open to the world's suggestion
she will declare it when she sees it she selects
metal objects to subvert General Motors
into art foundering she places the cast off part
on a stone itself ecstatically chosen she
declares all is art in her small yard and I admire
the lines of silhouette, the delicate rust, the lingering there
If she is also pregnant then she is two
and haunted by the opposite of ghost, the too
too solid and consider the tiny ocean there
the calm water less ocean than pool in which
the reflections of her face and flesh grow daily
Narcissus as mom, is, it is called expecting
Is the future written in that pool which has
no surface a hand writing her hand or its it's
a found art a foundling castaway soon from its private
ocean, cast eros sore loser
out
Walking aimless I watched the children concern
themselves with history and the importuning of nations
no the casual arrogance of the world I noticed
the sunlight slanted against the bark of trees
the texture complex and the implications astounding
the boiling of biology along each limb a sculptural
announcing of itself the flesh the form the shape
casting the world and breaking the mold.
_________________________________________________________________________
Bin Ramke edits a poetry series
for the University of Georgia Press, and edits the DENVER QUARTERLY.
His sixth book of poems, WAKE, was published recently by the University
of Iowa Press. He teaches at the University of Denver, but is spending the fall of
1999 at the Art Institute of Chicago.
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