Find me uncovered, un-thatched, let loose.
Knitting brow from all my questions at the knees of trees.
In a place so secret the moss crept in to keep it
And you cannot hear a footfall
Only the baptized raven call.
Knowing as you walk beneath the canopy you have entered a cathedral.
LINDENBERG: I think there is a general misconception that you write poems because you “have something to say.” I think, actually, that you write poems because you have something echoing around in the bone-dome of your skull that you cannot say. Poetry allows us to hold many related tangential notions in very close orbit around each other at the same time. The “unsayable” thing at the center of the poem becomes visible to the poet and reader in the same way that dark matter becomes visible to the astrophysicist. You can’t see it, but by measure of its effect on the visible, it can become so precise a silhouette you can almost know it.