Tell Me Something I Don’t Know

.
Don’t tell me the earth’s a sphere
and the sun’s kiss amounts to half-day
terminal bliss with a dark end
or that winters have to do with angles
mystics have to do with angels
and lovers are about orbiting passions
that pulse like stellar binaries
through light years
and come in telescopes

Don’t tell me the wind’s a metaphor
for a longing to fill vacuums
that sometimes spit typhoons
or that cardinals seen
in the high reaches of cherry trees
are no more sublime than worms
who burrow among turnip roots
for a living

Don’t tell me the chances of being
are equal to the odds of not being
—tell me something I don’t know

tell me how to weave
tomorrow into yesterday
without tangling, without
strangling today

Jim Culleny
.
10/10/12