Michael Palmer
THE LIBRARY IS BURNING
(Eighth Symmetrical Poem)
The library is burning floor by floor
delivering pictures from liquid to sleep
as we roll over thinking to run
A mistaken anticipation has led us here
to calculate the duration of a year
in units of aloe and wood
But there will be no more dust in corners
and no more dogs appearing through dust
to question themselves uncertainly
Should it finally be made clear
that there’s no cloud inside no body
no streetlamps, no unfoldings at five o’clock
along the edge of a curved path
Masters of the present tense
greet morning from their cautious beds
while the greater masters of regret
change water into colored class
The stirrings are the same and different
The stirrings are the same and different
and secretly the same
The fear of winter is the fear of fire
disassembling winter
and that time the message was confused
it felt the most precise
From THE LION BRIDGE (New Directions, 1998)
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