No Ideas But In Things Poem by RIC BASTASA

the snake is always a snake
and the scorpion cannot promise the frog
that in the middle of the storm
at its back, it will not bite
they will die together, but that is not enough
fear for being what they
to each they are,
the weeds are weeds and writing
is writing as always,
words that are words, come and speak, and mouths
will always be mouths,
sleepless are we at times on this
endeavor to understand
what lies beyond this
crap, metaphors of stones not reconciling
with roses
tattoos of the arms of a jilted lover
i am composed.
i compose to thing to things
not words, not to think to think
but things
as they are
as they were
forever.

still trying
what this saxifrage is all about
it splits.