That the glass would melt in heat,
That the water would freeze in cold,
Shows that this object is merely a state,
One of many, between two poles. So,
In the metaphysical, there are these poles.
Here in the centre stands the glass. Light
Is the lion that comes down to drink. There
And in that state, the glass is a pool.
Ruddy are his eyes and ruddy are his claws
When light comes down to wet his frothy jaws.
And in the water winding weeds move round.
And there and in another state--the refractions,
The metaphysics, the plastic parts of poems
Crash in the mind--But, fat Jocundus, worrying
About what stands here in the center, not the glass,
But in the centre of our lives, this time, this day,
It is a state, this spring among the politicians
Playing cards. In a village of the indigenes,
One would have still to discover. Among the dogs and
dung.
One would continue to contend with one's ideas.
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