No part in a high-wire act,
after all,
this net.
Close to the ground,
the balance it maintains is of a different sort.
Rooted in a discovery, an awareness
of its own particular structure,
it is not in the business of catching
falling bodies.
Rather, it holds and lets pass through
all that it should,
in the proper proportions,
according to its wishes,
and in its being what it is,
gently works to correct
any assumption
that its proportions
might resemble those of some other net,
either real or imagined.
But it can never be sure how successful its efforts are
and is reminded,
again and again,
of all the ways that its language falls short.
It doesn't need anybody to understand it, though,
in order for it to be,
for it to do what it does.*
And it doesn't hold onto words.*
*These are lies.
*These are its desires.
