straighten, re-straighten
the Post-its on my desk
again and again, again&again
who could still sit still?
i don't know what i would
but what i will is not my own.

i label and re-label myself
again&again, again and again
rotten with perfection, indeed.

the earth's hot breath
has frozen on its beard;
another year of life has met its death.

quietly, now, the sun rises
as one still drugged from
yesterday's colonoscopy,
stays hidden behind the clouds
,gives little warmth.
still i leave my home
and pray for rain or snow or asteroids.

rain and snow, i know, and even asteroids
will take me&my small i seriously,
as seriously as your compensating capital lIes.
and anyway, the rain falls on the fools
and anyway, the rain falls on the wise.



Blogger Peter said...

This poem has some ballast, especially the last two stanzas, especialy especially the last stanza.

9:31 PM  
Blogger Peter said...

Matt, my earlier comment is pretty vague, I agree! "Rain" has an unexplainable (I can't explain it, anyway) depth to it that I like. The words are simple, but they speak to a deeper place in me than my mind would expect. This effect is something that I would like to achieve now and then in my occasional attempts at poetry. I'm happy to experience it in others' poetry, though . . . it's really the chief reason I read poetry.

"Ballast" alone was too private of a picture to have communicated anything. Your last two stanzas are weighty, and they help the poem go somewhere in me. Sorry for my having been so vague!

7:35 AM  

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