Daily Archives: May 24, 2016

How The Dirt Accumulates

Sweeping floors
with a new broom
one finds debris and
is occasionally shocked
to recognize how old
some of these minute scraps
are, to recognize how long it’s been
since they first fell from their sources;
take for instance the corner
of a candy wrapper
from a few months back,
consumed in anger
while you muttered
at your body’s refusal to shrink,
after which you tossed all the candy
into the trash and haven’t bought 
any since, so this is without question
from that wrapper you tore off
and that scrap is angering you
again, or your weight is, or
your sloth and slovenly habits are,
it never ends, a new broom
can only sweep so much clean,
why bother, why bother to sweep
at all, everything leaves its dirt behind
and underfoot it makes a sad noise
as it cuts into your sad feet,
needling and whining
remember, remember
as if forgetting was an option.


Good Night, Good Night

Good night,
good night. Off
these painful feet
for a while — 
sleeping, dreaming
(maybe, it happens
so rarely). The bed
won’t hurt much 
till morning;
the best part
of this day will be 
spent unconscious, 
darkly numb
in matching darkness,
soaking all night in that
without being aware of it.
Good night,
good night; no need
to say it again.