oblivious to me,
a cadre of shrieking
laughing gulls
heedlessly scavenges
the disarrayed trash,
finding nothing precious there—
other than the difficulty
of taking themselves, or one
another too seriously.
*
We like to believe
that effort
is accumulated,
but the truth is
it's negotiated, moment
by moment.
Satisfaction, equanimity—these
are loss leaders,
lagging indicators.
To receive
our daily bread
is blissfully bearable, but
to forage it
instead? Nothing
could be trickier.
*
At long last, you
discover: the fact of the matter
is, at best, an atlas.
Whereas
its reality
is a landmass—
a pristine
island Eden—
a country with no roads.
