REASONS TO
Meticulous creation, flowers in a setting, the still-life
in that drunken man's head, the painter with the withered
hand : these are the carnival things of this life's longing,
the patterns and the fissures where the world is formed.
I cannot look glumly at a broken world; just want
instead to take it in and hold it.
-
The child of me watches the road fade and disappear;
the magic of the receding line, the flow of distance,
going away. The present man I am, peering dense, sees
another world more plainly than that - passing abreast,
swiftly alongside, at speed as it blurs. Between to two,
and somehow, was the rest of my life. There are reasons
to remember, and reasons as well to not.
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