The poetry of being dumbfounded is the poetry of being abandoned by your own vocabulary. Words take the air like a flock of migratory birds rising from tree. A swift, choreographed departure that leaves you rooted to the ground, unable to cry out anything. Not even “Stop!” Because that bright-winged, imperious bird too like all the others has flown south. For the brief and sudden winter of your surprise.
June 10, 2009