Last night all my attention Squinting westward at the sunset With a map and a compass When a man reached up, said something: "There, against the sky, a point of light Too invisible To give itself to the naked eye" On the shore, people yelling In their eyes, a great reflection In the grid, aware their position, Unconcerned with intuition: "There can never be no sympathy From that wilderness So let it be arrested" Swing low, old Magellan Nine by six or eight by seven Post a sentinel at the border Of what you attend and what you ignore I saw my frame in a pool of light All drowned in doubt and shame I knew that I had lost my sight
