Friday, June 1, 2012


When every little scent's intense, intensity
itself grows tedious. Not every sensation
can be sensational if we wish to remain

whole and sane. Holy thoughts and sacred
sentiments should be consigned to holidays
where they belong, so that the mundane

and unremarkable might also grow.
I know a woman who can hear an ant
gnawing on a seed deep within a fissure

on a beam. This doesn't lead to rapture—
it causes pain. I take a walk around
the garden walls I've built as baffle

to the fascinating marvels of my life.

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