Friday, February 13, 2009


I set a pebble on a table by a spoon

And tried to tell the difference between

My mind and the surface of the table.


Evening stole the light and soon

The rest of the rest of the room seemed

As far as the spoon was from the pebble.


It was not the pebble or the spoon

That took the center of the scene

But the impulse engendering this fable.


There is no finer thought than this,

That what could be is not what is.


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