Detail from Ginevra de' Benci, Leonardo da Vinci
You had me at, Is this real,
or is it enchantment?
But the source of that question
is a doubt that gnaws
at your sinew.
Somewhere inside the emptiness
that consumes every void, there is
a fullness that shrieks
with necessity.
One can think up
conjure
imagine
whatever one wishes,
And,
In one’s mind
it will be real.
But there are no imaginings
without witchcraft.
And there are no legends
without illusion.
And there are no graces
without the unutterable, first.
And there are no set formulas—
Or, are there?
I challenge you.
And judge you.
Yet, here I sit,
in the belly of a thirsty canyon,
staring at a silent and empty sky,
Shedding my Patience of Job,
Exchanging peace for agitation,
Glaring with expectation.
