A Question of Coherence
God wound the watch, and it’s been losing time.
My body, I fear, will never become a fossil.
We were frightened by fairy tales,
but only before they were true.
What I took for blossoms, on a closer look
were the raw twig ends left by trimming.
There are too many stairs in the world,
how far do we want to climb?
Worms were meant to catch us fish;
we are made to host bacteria.
We were scared of the dark,
but the sun is killing us.
Learn from cat-tails, hollyhock, leafhoppers,
who never get bored or cheat on their taxes.
Geese, for some reason, hate me.
All I ever wanted was to be
a twisted old tree, to do some good
at least to owls and rodents.
Will I be damned for loving too much
the smell of wet cement and rotting wood?
Sometimes, I do like a poem just after I’ve finished it. That’s the case with this one.
Of course, I often decide later that these poems are pure dreck.