The Stone’s Throw Tell me something. I don’t care what. Tell me despair is a dress that opens; The nail, doubtless, is driven straight down Into the twisted cedar post. Say death is listening at the door. Tell me how, between opposites, to tell The relative from the absolute; Why the creek sobs out at the start of spring, Though the spring sun, among stars, is undistinguished. Paper rose, stone’s throw: show me the smallest necessities Joining to complete the world. - James Galvin (American poet, b. 1951)
