A Pile of Poems
Because it’s been a while
One.
Can adornment be an offering,
Dandelions, the “zenith of the sun,”
We deconstruct and reconfigure,
So knowledge can un-become.
A habit worth having:
Commit to trying things out.
A thought worth having:
“One day you’ll look back,
And see how all your loose threads,
Made sense.”
Subway Interlude
I wear privacy like a thin veil wrapped delicately on long commutes. Like an indulgence —privacy has acquired the heaviness of guilt through Culture’s grinding, crushing my soft parts into plastic molds. Intimacy — such a thin, ethereal, untouchable no-thing. So hard to recognize and, therefore, so easy to lose (like the thing that keeps your earring in place) — we only notice its absence once it’s been gone a while. I must wear privacy loudly, like a delivery truck advertising the latest “fresh.” Keeping mine fresh requires maintenance. Watchfulness. Boundaries etched in indelible marker, also calendar blocks from seven to ten p.m. That will be my time to think thoughts worth thinking about (none of which are any of your business.)
