Tuesday, November 17

Untitled.

Over the draperies of sand
A scarlet ibis spreads its wings
And time has gone still for everything
Even laughter dies no matter how amusing
And I am laid upon the rough stone floor
Still half dreaming
But I'm putting in work
When I'm awake on my feet, or asleep
Was it Heraclitus
Who laid out the parameters of a lovely life
He was right, as they all were, but wrong,
So wrong of course. A sheet of tracing paper
Cannot fit between the stonework of my
Temporary sanctuary - but my apartment
Is full of ants and moth-eaten curtains
An orangutan could manage the place better
But I'm not in the least measure bitter
I only ask for a place to exist
That keeps the shadows away.

2 comments:

Magdalene said...

Ah, but an orang utan would litter the place with fruit peels, thus attracting even more ants. Then you'd have to call in the pest controller who'd put nasty chemicals everywhere. The orang utan and Jackson would probably be allergic to the chemicals and get sick. Then you'd have to call in the vet and the specialist zoo vet, which would clean out your bank account and make that very expensive christmas car completely out of the question.

Take it from me; you're doing a much better job without employing a large ape :-)

Love from one exhausted body to another. x

Metamatician said...

Hmm...I never really thought of it that way. I'll just have to teach the orang to throw his peels in the bin. :-)

Not much in the old bank account to clean out, by the way.

Thanks for stopping by :D

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