Monday, October 14, 2024

THE PROBLEM OF INDUCTION

The same way 
in which sunbeams 

streaming blithely 
through clouds 

are taken to augur 
some sweetening 
of the future, 

so too 
are children 

taught through sheer 
repetition 

to cry out 
for the bygone 

the way 
the old gods cried 
for nectar.


At the faintest blush
of the winter season, 

the heedless way 
gray geese careen 
overhead 

would seem 
to suggest 

that there's 
no such thing 
as treason. 

And yet, 
far be it from us 

to cite abandonment 
of instinct;

we prefer to dream 
of filaments 

connecting 
one thought 
to the next. So,

things fall apart—
this much is easy 
to accept;

the hard part is 
to repeatedly guess:

in what sequence? 
For what reason?