The drowsy old man-infant is now squinting at the ruddy sun. He is a new infant amid his several antique acceptances, enfant terrible , whose eyes are whole pearls opaque with incomplete questions . Those are pearls that were his infant eyes. Nothing of his eyes doth suffer a sky- change into something rich and strange.
Drowsy old men ask too many questions.
They are incomplete like their antic suns
Drowsy old men are bib drooling infants,
Their questions incomplete, not remarks
Leaving all of them for afterlife solutions.
Drowsy men are no eyes for real red sun.
They ask incomplete questions of mothers
Who they were when they were ,and why.
(After reading Questions Are Remarks , a poem by Wallace Stevens)
Drowsy old man walks on his fours. He has a rich Himalayan fur against the winter cold. He writes his antique poetry full of questions that ask nothing and are no remarks . His questions are best left to the after life. They are wholly incomplete.