Mind you, I'm not advocating clutter, even though ... looking around as I write this ... I can see that a stranger might think I'm clutter's chief spokesperson.
I try. Oh, how I try not to clutter up the planet in my immediate vicinity.
In my own defense, I must say that I don't toss litter out the car window ... I don't drop candy wrappers on the sidewalk ... in fact, sometimes, when I'm out walking, I pick up the occasional strayed aluminum can and deposit it in the nearest trash container.
But in my immediate vicinity ... here in the study at Brimm Manor ... there's just some invisible force which seems to be at work ... and I am powerless in its grasp.
Things just seem to pile up ... mostly poems in progress ... little notes I've scribbled along the way ... magazines that I really must read (someday) ... little watercolor sketches ... big watercolor sketches ... drawings ... notes to myself. Things like that.
Some days I seem to make progress ... but other days? Well, then it's like trying to sweep the ocean back with a broom.
But I promise you this (and it's not a political promise) ... I'll keep trying. Meanwhile, the poem:
CLUTTER, GLORIOUS CLUTTER
Someday I shall have room
for everything I possess,
all the room I ever dreamed
of having, room to lean back
casually and survey the vast
reaches of things collected
in years of serious pursuit
and delayed disentanglement.
But the jam-packed reality
of today is that I shift
cautiously among the poems
poised for avalanche, books
teetering on the brink
of revenge for being left
stacked like cold flapjacks
all these busy-busy years,
treasured items gathering
dust, clipped so long ago
from forgotten magazines.
So much of my past, perhaps
my future, too, nudging me
when I turn, bumping me when
I bend, skittering when
we touch, hugging me like
a lover just before the train
pulls out. And I stand here,
loving it all right back.
© 2000
(originally published in Nanny Fanny Poetry Magazine)
Today's word: avalanche
2 comments:
The content of this poem will be familiar to all of us, but not as a poet, necessarily.
I'm going through tattered, and sometimes yellow, papers and books of family history,spending hours trying to find one person I know almost everthing about...exept proof of her birth. Glad you have the ability and can make the effort to write poetry about this kind of thing. They just drive me nuts with no let up.
I loved this poem and hadn't seen it before. It can fit for more than a poet.
Thank you
Thank you, Helen. As you may have noticed, much of my poetry takes on quite ordinary subjects ... which I try to reduce to their most basic elements ... to view them as though I'm seeing them for the first time. Continued best wishes in your pursuits.
Post a Comment