Shall we take it then as disease that we're made for?
It all comes from this climate, unseasonably cack
Fermenting fresh ailments daily. Got to laugh!
Got to crap. Despite our best ignorances
To continually pile up the poetry
So that we can't see beyond it, swept
With all the dust of language in our eyes
Small hard words, you can't clear them out
And the long vague ones wrapped about our nerves
Cold, wet, opaque.

Then we talk about adjustment
Paint the house, work, raise up the children
Watch them grow as we too grow older
Slowly eroded: weather, words & wisdom
Tearing down our faces.
We are indistinguishable in this drizzling light.
The word went trundling off without us.
We all share the same smile – look!
Sweet but unlyric, blending teleology & chance
Into this final rictus.



down