Poetry of Issue #7        Page 3

Heidegger in Provence

This world as it’s supposed to be would blush
If unexpectedly its clothes were damp
And sticking to its body in the crush
Of tourists wandering through les Alyscamps.
The world of our philosophy can wait
Forever for its inconsistencies
To reconcile, and it can meditate
On Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Socrates
As monarchs of the mind. We will dream
Coherently, each dream a figured cloud
Pursuing us through known estates that seem
Ingenious, incongruous, and spare,
As if the universe could speak out loud
To minds that dream in integers and air.