536 Philosophy poems

My familiar ghost again Comes to see what he can see, Critic, son of Conscious Brain, Spying on our privacy. Slam the window, bolt the door, Yet he’ll enter in and stay; In to-morrow’s book he’ll score Indiscretions of to-day. Whispered love and muttered fears, How their echoes fly about! None escape his watchful ears, Every sigh might be a shout. No kind words nor angry cries Turn away this grim spoilsport; No fine lady’s pleading eyes, Neither love, nor hate, nor . . . port. Critic wears no smile of fun, Speaks no word of blame nor praise, Counts our kisses one by one, Notes each gesture, every phrase. My familiar ghost again Stands or squats where suits him best; Critic, son of Conscious Brain, Listens, watches, takes no rest.

None of us understands our story better than this nonentity, unconscious slip of nature, nonetheless our common parent dilating at the bottom of the sea. The parent, too, of octopus and pony, of reefs and villages, once it was strange simply for being not a rock itself— not rock, but a blank sleep on a rock shelf. And, deeply sympathetic to the rock, to sea and sea-dust washing through its skin, it knows, although it doesn’t know it knows, that minds and their milieux are all one thing. Some see its way of thinking; most, not yet. Still, one day, just by living, all will find reason enough within themselves to think the single thought forever in its mind.

i

"And then there were three whereas before there had been four or two And then there were four or two." Thus spake the King. No one dared ask what it meant. He seemed satisfied by the beauty of the logic that had arrived, the royal hall now lightly radiant as he arose from his throne and the world fell away, courtiers, battlements, and clouds, and he rose like a piece of paper on which his effigy had been traced in dotted lines whose dots came loose and flew away to a place in history where nothing mattered. And then there was one.

It seems a certain fear underlies everything. If I were to tell you something profound it would be useless, as every single thing I know is not timeless. I am particularly risk-averse. I choose someone else over me every time, as I'm sure they'll finish the task at hand, which is to say that whatever is in front of us will get done if I'm not in charge of it. There is a limit to the number of times I can practice every single kind of mortification (of the flesh?). I can turn toward you and say yes, it was you in the poem

There may be pink with white or white with rose Or there may be white with rose and pink with mauve Or even there may be white with yellow and yellow with blue Or even if even it is rose with white and blue And so there is no yellow there but by accident.

She need not be selfish but he may add They like my way it is partly mine In which case for them to foil or not please Come which they may they may in June. Not having all made plenty by their wish In their array all which they plan Should they be called covered by which It is fortunately their stay that they may In which and because it suits them to fan Not only not with clover but with may it matter That not only at a distance and with nearly That they ran for which they will not only plan But may be rain can be caught by the hills Just as well as they can with what they have And they may have it not only because of this But because they may be here. Or is it at all likely that they arrange what they like. Nohody knows just why they are or are not anxious While they sit and watch the horse which rests Not because he is tired but because they are waiting To say will they wait with them in their way Only to say it relieves them that they go away This is what they feel when they like it Most of them do or which It is very often their need not to be either Just why they are after all made quickly faster Just as they might do. It is what they did say when they mentioned it Or this. It is very well to go up and down and look more Than they could please that they see where It is better that they are there

Should they may be they might if they delight In why they must see it be there not only necessarily But which they might in which they might For which they might delight if they look there And they see there that they look there To see it be there which it is if it is Which may be where where it is If they do not occasion it to be different From what it is. In one direction there is the sun and the moon In the other direction there are cumulus clouds and the sky In the other direction there is why They look at what they see They look very long while they talk along And they may be said to see that at which they look Whenever there is no chance of its not being warmer Than if they wish which they were. They see that they have what is there may there Be there also what is to be there if they may care They care for it of course they care for it. Now only think three times roses green and blue And vegetables and pumpkins and pansies too Which they like as they are very likely not to be Reminded that it is more than ever necessary That they should never be surprised at any one time At just what they have been given by taking what they have Which they are very careful not to add with As they may easily indulge in the fragrance Not only of which but by which they know That they tell them so.

I think very well of Susan but I do not know her name I think very well of Ellen but which is not the same I think very well of Paul I tell him not to do so I think very well of Francis Charles but do I do so I think very well of Thomas but I do not not do so I think very well of not very well of William I think very well of any very well of him I think very well of him. It is remarkable how quickly they learn But if they learn and it is very remarkable how quickly they learn It makes not only but by and by And they may not only be not here But not there Which after all makes no difference After all this does not make any does not make any difference I add added it to it. I could rather be rather be here.

Why can pansies be their aid or paths. He said paths she had said paths All like to do their best with half of the time A sweeter sweetener came and came in time Tell him what happened then only to go He nervous as you add only not only as they angry were Be kind to half the time that they shall say It is undoubtedly of them for them for every one any one They thought quietly that Sunday any day she might not come In half a way of coining that they wish it Let it be only known as please which they can underrate They try once to destroy once to destroy as often Better have it changed to pigeons now if the room smokes Not only if it does but happens to happens to have the room smoke all the time. In their way not in their way it can be all arranged Not now we are waiting. I have read that they wish if land is there Land is there if they wish land is there Yes hardly if they wish land is there It is no thought of enterprise there trying Might they claim as well as reclaim. Did she mean that she had nothing. We say he and I that we do not cry Because we have just seen him and called him back He meant to go away Once now I will tell all which they tell lightly. How were we when we met. All of which nobody not we know But it is so. They cannot be allied They can be close and chosen. Once in a while they wait. He likes it that there is no chance to misunderstand pansies.