William Bibby


A poem for April

Sunday, 5 Apr 2020

(i.m. Katie Irani)

A bit of light un-clips the shadow
from the porch; volume follows –
flows and brakes
with a continental weight.

Slowly shadows squeeze away
and her voice starts again,
stepping forward into the low reddled sun
as the horseman approaches the horse.

And the song is laughing in the light
at five o’clock while elsewhere
incompleteness theorems
deliver the logic, the incomprehension:
brains like bathyspheres
sink into the bottomless dream.

Establishing ethics with dogmas
confused us for centuries,
that sweet dyspeptic artifice
like burning rayon.

Thinking past thought, trying to
somersault being. Our instincts
have no morality, moral imagination
gives intuition hope;

Yet behind her seem to be others
crowding forward, simply singing.

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