NOW THEY ARE
ALL CRAZY SO
Walking in a line, a distant frieze of open
place and unlocked sheds. There are cows
and donkeys, goats and chickens, it seems,
everywhere; and this yard is cluttered with
dung and cast-off objects of use and desire.
I am lost, amidst smithereens of inattention, in
things gone awry : motivations, intentions?
My soiled boots alone are the best judges
of that - after all, they walk through things
I can otherwise avoid. The skeletons of old
wrapping are inside the barn, thrown down,
with the hay of cows and the threading of
milk-pump tubes through the ceiling rafters.
If half of what I imagine is a quarter of my
life, indeed, I am sunk already, and lost.
If all I see, however, is half of all that is,
my life is rich again, and fraught with
expectation, promise and joy.
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