When you have enough time
You can do it again and again
And that is how you make a forest
With each one the same
In being different
From all the others. You
“Really want to get something done”
How many trees, then, do you include in the forest?
The day isn’t over
On the contrary the day has just begun
With a hooting and whistles
And a lark’s clerical swirl
A pristine hopscotch of the scattering woodland repeats.
This doesn’t reveal anything obvious
But rather gives a discrete
Powerful complicated understanding. Nature,
Which gives us the forest, is it wide
Or narrow from an absolute point of view?
It won’t fit into a wheelbarrow;
And neither does time—
There are too many zones, as in the forest
Each tree has its own
And is its own
Dawn, morning, noon, evening, night

This Issue

June 27, 2002