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Poems by Andrew Joron
Spine to Spin, Spoke to Speak
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A = A

by Andrew Joron

Mine to ask a mask to say, A is not A.

No one, ever the contrarian, to answer.

The moon is both divided & multiplied

        by water: as chance, as the plural of chant.

O diver, to be sea-surrounded by a thought bled white—

        a blankness as likely as blackness.

What is the word for getting words & forgetting?

Might night right sight?

I, too late to relate

        I & I, trap light in sound

& sing no thing that breath can bring.

Copyright 2013 by Andrew Joron. Used with permission of the author.
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