Pretty much all I’ve got this morning are questions. Why do I like this poem so much? I don’t know, except perhaps, just now, the darker mysteries seem more transparent, or at least available, than the higher ones. What moves me about these lines? Still don’t know, except that just now I’m not sure I can bear a miracle that needs explaining but would be glad to receive a sign of what’s next, of what I should do, of what is even possible. Why, for that matter, is this a poem, as it feels as much like prose as poetry? Perhaps it’s the line breaks, or the imagery, or the lack of resolution, or the silent invitation. I just don’t...