her sewing basket
there were many disconnected pieces fragments
abandoned after some long ago endeavor
failed to materialize scraps of material in her sewing
basket quilts never finished or the fat and rinds
and trimmings scraped into the trash after a meal was
prepared and served it was her detritus and
it is dissonant and now it has come to me to make
sense of it which seems beyond me i am not a
tailor or tinker or welder or stitcher of open
wounds i have no innate problem solving skills no
insights on how things work or should work and
dissonance does not particularly bother me i
see no valid reason why this need be done no harm if
it goes undone yet they want it done and
they want me to do it now i have a metaphoric lap
full of disconnected pieces fragments like
a box full of john harrison's leftover wheels and
gears and alloys make sense of this it is the ingredients
but the not the recipe it is neruda's i keep a
blue bottle inside it an ear and a portrait or maybe
stevens’ jar and firecat or even this ornament
Poetry by one trick pony
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Written on 2019-06-14 at 16:13
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