Omen
A bird's path crosses mine.
X marks the spot.
I call this cross a sign.
The bird does not.
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Shapes
Through these wild shapes
Does Shape shine forth:
An inner compass signs
The absolute North
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Hidden nowhere
Dead water from a tap.
Live water from a spring.
Dead country on a map -
Sleep walking.
Unusual boulder speaks.
Hawk in polluted air.
Something the eye seeks,
Hidden nowhere.
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The rule of law
Why should I fail the gods to satisfy
The expectation of the man next door?
Put off the impossible because
The Thing Committee's meeting on the tenth?
The gods of course know well I cannot do
Whatever they agree I must.
Such dull considerations aren't their business -
Nothing happens by the rule of law.
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Accident
By accident the truth shines out -
And accident becomes design.
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Clues
Whose voice is asking questions,
and whose eyes will hunt
For clues that no one scattered on the ground?
A definition proves the presence of a lack -
To know our lostness may mean we are found.
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Boundaries
Life has no boundaries
Weather moves with us
Whether or not we move.
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"Whaur's your Johnnie Walker noo"?
(A barman, seen from the top of a bus, pouring a nameless
whisky into a row of variously branded bottles)
He pours with bored and sober hand
From nameless bottles into brand.
So God's dark fountain brightness pours
Into this dream of mine and yours.
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Robin's song
An argument of telephones
By robin's intimate distance valued -
Sudden window of a lost mansion
Startled into light.