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About this Poem 
“Like so many of my attempts, this poem uses the etymology of a word as a sort of, well, trellis. And it is a meditation on how sun and flower dance, deny and entangle each other—that is, it is an examination of how in the natural world, as in poetry, form is more fundamental than matter.” 
— Bin Ramke

Making It Up as You Go Along

Lucretius loved Epicurus, knew
the world through him; his
meaning was clear: love as a way
of knowing, of assuming the known.

To know is to narrate.
People die trying to tell what
it was like there then. Others
die of not trying. The form of this
telling is, for example,
a trellis. A growth controlled
unpredictable within measure.

Trellis. Tri licium. three threads.
The weaver knows
through the fingers the way worlds
hold together. Basket makers.
The shadow of a trellis is filled
against itself, against measure.
See the sun try again to
stop the movement of the rose

climbing among the woven ways.

Copyright © 2014 by Bin Ramke. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on April 23, 2014. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.

Copyright © 2014 by Bin Ramke. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on April 23, 2014. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.

Bin Ramke

Bin Ramke is the author of Massacre of the Innocents (University of Iowa Press, 1995) and Wake (University of Iowa Press, 1998), both of which won the Iowa Poetry Prize.

by this poet

poem

wings of angels rustle in Latin
says Zbigniew Herbert

I recall so little (amo amas
amat
) the little so broken I
sauntered soundless
down paths in the park

I heard a policeman speak
in fragments from above

from a helicopter I understood

poem

What does it matter—material as in
paper, scissors, rock? Matter of fact,
res facti, not matter of law; res judicata;
mater, wood, in the woods, mother; a
child draws a box, triangle, chimney,
door of paper. A poem a product
suitable for interior use

poem
A point, a line, alignment. Lovely
the lingering lights along the shore
as the century lays itself out for observation:

hunger and the youthful indiscretion.
I am one of many, or not even one,
but am of many one who watches the waves

and allows the particulate sand its say,
say, its sound, susurrant. Of many