Thursday, January 31, 2013

Winter Walk #11 (I Went Out)

i went out
in bleary winter
to gather in some raw ideas

but the frozen ground 
just glared back up at me
and groused:

Who are you to catalog,
What catalogs can't hold?
You are not the engineer,
But the imaginer of cold

incredulous, I sank back in my boots
and quickly started doing calculus:

these boots are stiff and salty.
how's that? who wears them?

the sky's the color of a road.
so what? who rides it?

the falling snow is writing Bach.
falling where? who hears it?

again the ground flared up at me
bald and rumbling:

There is no such subject
To an object uncreated
They are perpendicular 
And thus always related

and sure enough,
the more I scribbled
the less I mattered,
and the more I vanished,
the less got finished,

until eventually,
reams of no poems
snowed down to the ground in shreds
unwritten and unread

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