Here, where the world is quiet;
Here, where the trouble starts.

The facts don't make themselves known.
Guided by method, we collect our data;
we measure things, construe them as objects.
We imagine them. We assert and deny them.

(Data is Greek for that which is given;
we need a word
for those who we take for granted.)

Acts do not proceed on their own power.
Assigned a mandate, we marshal our "capta";
we direct people, enthrall them as subjects.
We imagine them. We enjoin or denounce them.

They were perfect
for each other. She
was a sad and beautiful
woman. He was a poet.

For years, he worked
to extricate her beauty
from the policy
that governed her face.

Resigned to the task,
he labored in love.
Every poem, a failure.
Every failure, a poem.

"If you want to know me," I said,
"you must believe me;
if you want to believe me,
you must understand me;
and to understand me
you must use your imagination."

"If you want to master me," she answered,
"you must desire me;
if you want to desire me,
you must obey me;
and to obey me... well,
let me use your imagination."

The hardest thing
isn't always the most difficult,
just as the easiest
is not necessarily the lightest.

The heaviest burden
is not always the darkest,
nor is gravity,
always a serious business.

Sometimes the fool
just falls on his stupid ass,
and makes short work,
let's say, of your long face.