Tuesday, February 12, 2013

On the Collapse of Purpose

this morning
i slipped outside 
into the sheer 
inconceivability of tuesday

all at once,
my purpose collapsed
and i just fell to pieces
on the cold, sharp air

blown out 
over narrow streets,
above rectangular buildings,
past flocks of dark birds,
i felt so wide
and complicated
that i didn't really notice
the easy way my particles moved 
into the spaces right in front of them

and instead of insisting 
that i knew something 
about what it's like 
to be a bird,

i only wondered,
dimly, dumbly, 
and for the first time,
what it's like to be 
a flock