Suite of Unreason

by Jim Harrison
Nearly all my life I’ve noted that some of my thinking was atavistic, primitive, totemic. This can be disturbing to one fairly learned. In this suite I wanted to examine this phenomenon.


The moon is under suspicion.
Of what use is it?
It exudes its white smoke of light.

                       • • •

Her name was imponderable.
Sitting in the grass seven feet
from the lilacs she knew
she’d never have a lover.
She tends to her knitting
which is the night.
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