The assumption that it’s difficult is what makes it so.
But then, so does any assumption at all.
You Think You Know Yourself
You think you know yourself — then comes a word,
a phrase, a night, a moon, an oak in rust on a time-worn hill,
leaves, twigs, and cloud-debris, horseless riders faceless
until they swing right in front of you — did you dream
them or did they dream you? — swing by their necks,
smiling, still — and you look down at your hands,
at the flowers they hold, rainbows, lanterns,
beads, gold, at a train passing through
impossible views — at your breath
in the cold, at your age and its
clues — and find, yes,
find, that you
Recently Banned Literature, October 1, 2014