Poem For The Week

Ineluctable modality of the visible.
James Joyce

Before first light, the first first light–
more night than not–
when what you know is still your own.

In minutes it will be too late,
shape and color
make the strange familiar.

An hour from now the sun will flood
the trees with certainties
demanding to be understood.

The agency of objects will insist,
and your life as intuition
for this day will be lost.

John Barr / from Dante in China