It’s cold out here.
If I go inside now, will it matter
If I go inside now, will it matter
to the authenticity of my
blather?
Might I see a deer
if I sit patiently out here in the splatter?
Might I see a deer
if I sit patiently out here in the splatter?
Out here, my ears can be
clobbered
directly by the chatter of the birds,
so if I went inside now it WOULD matter
directly by the chatter of the birds,
so if I went inside now it WOULD matter
to the engagement of my
palaver—even though I left my glasses
inside, so I can’t see clearly.
I can HEAR, though—the birds, the drizzly splatter—
inside, so I can’t see clearly.
I can HEAR, though—the birds, the drizzly splatter—
presences that shatter
my conscious awareness—making it appear
it really DOES matter
my conscious awareness—making it appear
it really DOES matter
which side of the wall I’m sitting
on—wool-gathering
the world together—
sitting out in the splatter,
letting the cold wind decide what matters.
the world together—
sitting out in the splatter,
letting the cold wind decide what matters.
