Inside I brought
willows, the tips
iris (I forget
the legend of long life
and the branch of pepper tree
whose pink seeds
lack the passion of most fruit.
On my hands a perfume of pepper.
Outside the rain walks.
There were two.
taken out of the wall-
paper (a ghost story)
Jack talked. His
determined privacy against
my public face. The poem
by dictation. A
disturbance in the cone
Neither of these
is not making. The comic
is a matter of style
as yellow hands mark the worker.
The clown of dignity sits in a tree.
The clown of games hangs there too.
Which is which or where they go—
the point is to make others see
that two men in a tree is clearly
the same thing as poetry.
Robin Blaser, “Cups: 1” from The Holy Forest: Collected Poems of Robin Blaser. Copyright © 2006 by Robin Blaser. Reprinted by permission of University of California Press.
Source: The Holy Forest: Collected Poems of Robin Blaser
(University of California Press, 2006)