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A long complicated archeology
meets with heroic silence.
It seems to say, what you have
discovered cannot be known.

Yet here I am, 
asking an ancient alliance
to renew a mythical experience
when what it knows is muteness.




For eighteen years I lived here; 
for twelve I have been gone.
Still, what moves me
most skillfully— 

through history, through
strata of memory—are
the mysteries and auratic
dimensions of forgotten things:

reducible and divisible,
infinitely important,
yet somehow inferior
to the symbolic system

by which man rules.  
Here is my suspicion:
even at the outskirts of use,
especially at the outskirts of use,

things exist on the verge of speech
to imbue existence with
renewed opacity to reignite
wonder vis—á—vis the world.