Tuesday, December 28, 2004

the way the brain works, a poem



tsunami and 53,000 dead
what can we do
anything at all


discovery of something grand
release of said idea into internal marketplace

wedding invitations for a wedding, my wedding, long off, a question mark
with ornate pink peonies printed on clear vellum, outlined in soft gold,
caressing stock of deepest chocolate brown with raised white letters my finger could trace

tsunami and tragedy affecting humanity

back to me
feeling like a shithead for being so selfish

you, a redeeming blip on my radar screen amidst the turbulent waters of decay and decomposition that threaten to dispel hope in a land ravaged, decimated

in my mind ever wandering, ever wondering
if all these pieces fit together

if it’s okay to grieve for men and women, then shift
so easily, guiltily
to exultation for self-discovery
for imminent possibilities and moments brimming over with creativity

my heart beating, thumping loudly in my chest declaring with each staccato
i am alive
i am alive
and so many have died, but i live on

turning back to thoughts that i can’t control who lives and dies
i can only do so much in this cubicle space at work
to affect the other end of the world
but that sounds selfish too

i cut mini vellum squares announcing our congratulations
to recipients of these small packets of tea, people on private jets,
my movements small

the rain drips down like a faucet mindlessly, languorously dropping
threads of water on the patch of earth outside my window,
making the grass a brilliant shade of green.
technicolor, really

much like you, much like me


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