FLOG THE SIGNPOST
In the gutter are the remnants of an
overnight rain - the things that flow
and stop. Once they hit an obstacle, that's
good enough for them. Other items go around
and the silt and soil amass. The world erodes,
simply, like a little finger in a pencil sharpener.
The signpost, not as nimble, becomes a dam.
Things are buttressed by other things.
-
My only usual abandon is the anarchy of self :
I too can walk until I hit that wall, and then let
the rest around me swirl : a knock on the head,
a moment of dizzy-feel. These are different
items in a different world, but oh well, it
cannot be like Christmas every day.
Things are butttressed in
other ways.
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