For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further

Lyrics

Not that it was beautiful But that, in the end, there was A certain sense of order there; Something worth learning In that narrow diary of my mind In the commonplaces of the asylum Where the cracked mirror Or my own selfish death Outstared me And if I tried To give you something else Something outside of myself You would not know That the worst of anyone Can be, finally An accident of hope I tapped my own head; It was a glass, an inverted bowl It is a small thing To rage in your own bowl At first it was private Then it was more than myself; It was you, or your house Or your kitchen And if you turn away Because there is no lesson here I will hold my awkward bowl With all its cracked stars shining Like a complicated lie And fasten a new skin around it As if I were dressing an orange Or a strange sun Not that it was beautiful But that I found some order there There ought to be something special For someone In this kind of hope This is something I would never find In a lovelier place, my dear Although your fear is anyone's fear Like an invisible veil between us all… And sometimes in private My kitchen, your kitchen My face, your face