The Village of Reason Poem by Michael Palmer

The Village of Reason



This is a glove
or a book from a book club

This is the sun
or a layer of mud

This is Monday,
this is an altered word

This is the village of reason
and this is an eye torn out

This is the father
or a number on a chart

This is a substitute,
this is the thing you are

This is the varnished picture
or else an accepted response

This is the door
and this the word for door

This is a reflex caused by falling
and this is a prisoner with an orange

This is a name you know
and this is the poison to make you well

This is the mechanism
and this is the shadow of a bridge

This is a curve
and this its thirst

This is Monday,
this her damaged word

This is the trace
and this the term unmarked

This is the sonnet
and this its burning house

You are in this play
You are in its landscape

This is an assumption
the length of an arm

This is a poppy,
this an epilogue

COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Michael Palmer

Manhattan, New York City, New York
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