Notes for Echo Lake 4

Who did he talk to Did she trust what she saw Who does the talking Whose words formed awkward curves Did the lion finally talk Did the sleeping lion talk Did you trust a north window What made the dog bark What causes a grey dog to bark What does the juggler tell us What does the juggler’s redness tell us Is she standing in an image Were they lost in the forest Were they walking through a forest Has anything been forgotten Did you find it in the dark Is that one of them new atomic-powered wristwatches Was it called a talking song Is that an oblong poem Was poetry the object Was there once a road here ending at a door Thus from bridge to bridge we came along Did the machine seem to talk Did he read from an empty book Did the book grow empty in the dark, grey felt hat blowing down the street, arms pumping back and forth, legs slightly bowed Are there fewer ears than songs Did he trust a broken window Did he wake beneath a tree in the recent snow Whose words formed difficult curves Have the exaggerations quieted down The light is lovely on trees which are not large My logic is all in the melting-pot My life now is very economical I can say nothing of my feeling about space Nothing could be clearer than what you see on this wall Must we give each one a name Is it true they all have names Would it not have been simpler Would it not have been simpler to begin Were there ever such buildings I must remember to mention the trees I must remember to invent some trees Who told you these things Who taught you how to speak Who taught you not to speak Whose is the voice that empties