134
PARTISAN REVIEW
Brighten among his feathers like a magic
Making him nothing but a miracle:
You willed us, Walt, in your miraculous codes
'Real gardens with imaginary toads.'
But the comfortable curl of cur on my hearth
Points an ear at phantoms that he hears
Keening above the range of his master's ears,
And winks. He knows what a miracle is worth.
The miracle is that matter is so hard:
Falling stars are now more real than fireworks
Though less dangerous than other skyworks
That can come to earth right here in my yard.
It's not a matter, reader, of being right.
Only tell me, which do you prefer:
"The streetlight hangs in the evening like a star"
Or "the star hangs in the evening like a streetlight"?
Oscar Williams
THE ANSWER USUALLY COMES IN WORDS
The answer usually comes in words, but this is a basket,
A man all covered in straw lying deep in the bulrushes,
And Pharaoh's daughter, her face a benign lamp of love,
Shines over him, surrounded by a province like a future.
The adult is fully armed, though embalmed in the sleep
Of his senses, the latest newborn feeding at the instant;
The servants must ask no questions, the king never know,
A new source has fallen on the grounds of our problems.
Come, are you strong enough to walk, to talk, to climb
The giant beanstalk shining now with new manufacture?
A gulf with mossy sides is the pride of our public park,
Faraway snow covers the pavements that run to horizons.
