1. Syllabus
I want to tell you everything I know.
Mathematically that's impossible, like
counting to infinity. I say, no
matter if it's possible; the end's no
goal after all. I would just start again,
or you could tell me everything you know,
which would make twice infinity -- that's no
more at all, as some simple math can tell.
You said there were limits on what to tell
but that's one thing that I decline to know.
Anyway I've started now, so please hear
me out; let me go on while you're still here.

2. History of Modern Theater
Sometimes I think about how we got here
from our two separate lives. I do not know
anything about fate, except I hear
there's no escaping it, and, well, I'm here.
I feel like Rosencrantz, or maybe like
Ophelia on a bad day. I hear
echos from other stories, overhear
lovers who will not speak to me again
saying lines I rehearsed myself. Again
the scene changes all around me, and here
I'll have to improvise some lines to tell.
I'm poor enough a player; I can't tell

3. Perception and Cognition
when I ought to quit the stage. Will you tell
me when our scene is over? I've been here
before, I'm pretty sure; I sure can tell
you a lot of stories. But I can't tell
endings from beginnings. I'd like to know
when to hope and when to dread -- I should tell
you now, hope scares me more. I cannot tell
real hope from pain; they feel a lot alike.
Or truth from lies; those sound a lot alike
in any language. I'd like us to tell
the truth. But I could get it wrong again.
Every time it hurts, and happens again.

4. Creative Writing
But I have taken a lover again.
(Can I call you "lover"? I cannot tell
you that I love you; to say that again
requires a faith I may not have again;
that it might make anyone glad to hear.)
And I have taken to writing again
in forms that use words again and again.
This is my first canzone, a form I know
as sister to the sestina, but no-
where near as common. It teaches me again
the weight and shape of language, which is like
the weight of a lover on me. I like

5. Nondestructive Evaluation
this. When I have nothing else to like
I tell myself that words will come again
to rhyme and reason, and I always like
the sound of that. And I can say I like
you, though I guess that's not too hard to tell.
And I can wonder what it would be like
if what we felt could be at all alike.
I'll tell you that I like to have you here.
I like to tell you things; I like to hear
what you tell me. And I want you to like
all these things too. I know you can say no.
Or else you could say anything you know.

6. Finals
So what do you know, and what do you like,
and what do you love, and what will you tell?
Tell me, tell me again; I need to hear.

copyright Vicka Rael Corey
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