a poem from last thursday or so…

28 07 2003

twelve days of unpacking

it’s a sweet insanity, this,
and not “sweet” as in precious, or sugary-
sweet like the near-silence of the breath the baby draws between furious howls-
the craziness is here for me to hide behind,
the dizzy moments of rising from the boxed fogs, the so-disorderly arrays of everywhere we’ve ever been, the chaos that’s replaced the neat sequence pages used to lie in between covers could forget us entirely if we sought a process or a mental placement for them, if we didn’t duck away under the smoke-soiled rug or down the dismal cellar stairs denying comprehension.

the potential for perfection here is almost cloying, almost destructive in its imminence.
were more things shabby, our shortcomings wouldn’t haunt us so;
were a few more as they ought to be, we might be disappeared.

as it is, there’s a tenuousness, and at the same time a tenacity
we’re holding on with all we have
to the thin cords of twine that hold the house together

the only problem is that doing so leaves no hands free
to hold on to each other.




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