Tuesday, April 20, 2021

THE END OF TIME

Maybe all along 
we were 
all wrong about it—

overly 
dramatic,

or else, 
too clever by two- 
over-half.

Maybe it's not all over
(that's too climactic).

Maybe, instead, it's
the 1st of Never 
on the calendar—

at last 
that day has dawned 
which will not ever set.

But we are so used 
to the practice 
of patience—

of just hanging on 
and staying 
strong til tomorrow—

that we're all too contented 
to sit
and to wait

even though it's getting 
awfully late—

or should be, 
anyway.



Monday, April 19, 2021

BITTER MEMORY

There are, of course, always
those sensible buildings 

to which 
daily access
is granted millions.

Then, there are
the particular places—
a ramshackle cabin

high in the mountains, say—
whose paths are passable only 
intermittently. 

And last of all, there's 
that one empty palace—

with its gilt towers 
and buttresses frozen
at formidable right angles

and its piercing 
white interiors, all
excruciatingly polished—

which, having glimpsed  
only once, 
you have ever since permitted 

to secretly exist,
but which 
you'd never dare wish 

for one second
to reinhabit.



Friday, April 16, 2021

WISDOM IS THAT KNOWLEDGE WHOSE BURDEN WE NEVER WANTED

Scarcity 
may always be the
archetypal fear;

But the truth is, 
there is far too much 
here to defend.

Time is so ample, 
in some sense it 
never advances;

and the sky, always 
so far away—what 
are the chances 

there won't always be more 
to mistrust 
in those immortals

whose intelligence 
was too lavish 
to be blighted by death 

and yet, too humble
to now seem quite
foolish instead?


Thursday, April 15, 2021

LEARNING TO SPEAK

It's not an intelligence—
it's something that happens 

to your entire body 
all at once;

language 
is the grail itself—

an inexhaustible radiance, 
which, up close, could 
burn all your clothes off.

You forget 
about getting things
a bit mixed up;

you remember only enough 
to know you must walk 

into the furnace of words—
naked 
and nameless,

from the gutter, 
to the galaxy—
but always willingly, 

as if any other 
choice existed. 



Wednesday, April 14, 2021

AMATEUR CARTOGRAPHY

Repellent as it looks 
from this 
location, it would be 

far better 
to stop 

and carve a stiff grid across 
the top of your life

than to not. 
After all—
at some point, 

the coordination 
of pain 

must begin 
to protect against 
the loss,

and let's face it—
and you are going to get lost 
a lot.


Tuesday, April 13, 2021

PREPONDERANCES

If what Nature 
just cannot stand is 
a vacuum, 

how come a man 
most abhors 
her redundancies—

earth's messy multiplicities
which breed free
endurance, 

or guaranteed 
survival of the most 
blessedly anonymous, 

or, worst of all,
the sophistication pre-
supposed of the oblique? 

Instead of trusting 
in processes, why is he 
repulsed 

by the repetitions
which console against
chronic incoherence?

Do he fear 
these varieties 
obscure the one angle 

from which he both
views the truth clear—
and survives it? 


Monday, April 12, 2021

TWO CONFLICTING IMPULSES

Like a beaten 
drum, or some hapless planet 
bombarded by comets,

I guess you have 
no choice but 
to abide all the torment,

of this moment, all its tiresome 
insistence and it's chronic 
aggravation;

for the sensation 
you experience is no 
technical problem, 

but rather, a tectonic one:
for durability's sake,
beneath topsides of skin, 

the meat of you really is 
made out of plates—
whose main job is 

less to contain 
than to grind at each other 
continuously.