[But isn’t midnight intermittent]

But isn’t midnight intermittent

Or was that just a whispered nine

A snap of blown light low against the flank of a cow

A likeness of something numberless that only I not knowing the sound

might know

It may have been howled by a circling dog being chastised — threatened —

by multiples of itself in pursuit of the consolation of knowing that

everything is real

It was real

I don’t mean midnight — despite horizon, nipple, and fissure

I don’t mean

And yet I do — mean, I mean

A cowering animal woven real

flickers

please pull over

Kierkegaard

Kierkegaard says knowledge precedes every act but surely there are acts that

are not preceded by knowledge. Repetitions pass at the door from summer

to winter. Some slowly. Some quickly. Total strangers. Never saw them

before. Can’t picture them now. Umbrellas — strange totalities — upheld,

wheeling.

Source: The Book of a Thousand Eyes (Omnidawn Publishing, 2012)