Tuesday, November 8, 2011



Methodical, melodic, or
madness, haphazardness.

Wildness can be a risk,
haphazardous. With blades,

or construction, or driving.
Any heavy machinery

calls for care, forethought,
a level sense of what goes

where. But what joy can
caution bring us, some

warm, furry sensation
unfurling gradually.

We borrow from both,
illogically. How I leave

the house, for example,
hurricane of keys and

sheets of paper, the feeling
that I am forgetting fifty

things. Or the bout of
flossing that occurs before

the dentist, training my gums
to bleed less as evidence

of splendid dental hygiene.
What is the difference between

chaos and order, anyway.
Where would we look

to measure this. The before
or after. Where do those start.


  1. The hurricane of keys and paper and the bout of flossing both hit home. The poem is tight and impressive throughout, though. Congratulations.

  2. I can definitely relate to a hurricane of keys and sheets of paper.

  3. Wonderful musicality in those first two stanzas.

    I also really like "how I leave // the house..../things." The images are instantly recognizable.

    And, of course, there's the irony of conceiving methodology when considering before/after. "Where dod those start." is indeed the question.

  4. You had me thinking about the difference between chaos and order, which is easy to tell scientifically but then it occurred to me that as I organize a room in a certain way our bi-weekly help comes and reorganizes things in the strangest way, obviously she regards our way as chaos...we laugh a lot about this! Lovely poem as always...xx

  5. Taut, release, taut release.

    Great movement.


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