monday poem 14
A sufficiently interesting life is essentially unpredictable. Thus my lack of drowsiness on the bus headed to work after awakening three times by car alarms in the night. Thus the large muscular rat on my back fence that I spotted from the kitchen during yesterday’s heat. Thus the fresh clean smell of the underarm of my dress shirt in spite of having performed in it thoroughly before. How then do we continue? How then do promises keep and sleeping cats sleep? Is constancy a bore? Is risk a whore? One sees the tree in the woods the leaf on the tree and the pore on the leaf. One narrows one’s view and specializes in the instant. Then the things that stay still disappear from the eye. If one loves without pain one loves the changing present.