The Uselessness of the Common or Garden Variety of Experience
One doesn't look at the rose,
however restrained, to show
how the violet should be seen.
however vegetable-like,
the peony. Sun will strike
the gnarled, uneven string bean
before one is prepared, glow
in the mind before one knows.
There is no onomato-
peony among growing
things. Each is its own cabbage-
rose, its own duality.
Sometimes the pollen will see
or seem to, one's own courage
standing still before going
wind-borne toward the tomato.