22

There is an infinity of possibilities
And an infinity of impossibilities.

These spheres do not ever touch.
Which is to say they always touch,

So far as touch is a command
Of space, a limitation or zero sum.

Two infinities, all containing each
And each excluding the other.

The linen of our earth is strung
Up on these trembling lines.

Sleep is an instant, and an eternity—
Night wind strains at the wooden pegs.

A blustered tree is two hemispheres
—Leaf and root—like an hourglass.

Particoloured bulbs of glass—finite!
A blackbird sleeps in the lee of a stone.