1008. WERE I TO SET A STONE FOR YOU, WOULD I A JEWELER BE?

WERE I TO SET A STONE FOR
YOU, WOULD I A JEWELER BE?
Were I to set a stone for you, would I
a jeweler be? Greylock. Redstone.
Cellar entrance. Green bush and chair.
Trellis and black door. The Grand Vizier,
I once knew him in a place like this. And
I'd seen him often. But now all that is
gone, and we must do something.
-
My sickening inventory, of time and matter
all. I grab it up and stick it to myself like
a foul attendant at an accountant's wake.
Waves are lapping the dew. I bow down
and grab a handful of dirt.
-
The tiniest bugs there are are crawling
between my fingers. They've come out
of that dirt. They crawl onto the morning
table, where no one but me sits. It's easy
to dismiss Love when you've got nothing
to live for - as easy as it is to dismiss Life
when you've no one to love. They say nothing
can come from nothing; but the Universe,
in spite of that, tells a different tale
(and I really want to listen).
-
It's at moments like this when I know I am
failing. The blind man in the art museum,
damn, even he sees more than me. I am
a makeshift enemy of all - everything -
around me. Larkspur. Sparrow. Tree limb.
Awning and shutter. Bench on the dirt and
that bicycle wheel tied to a tree. Were I to
set a stone for you, would I a jeweler be?