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On the fifth floor I spent 10 days
learning how to walk never far
above the earthworms, never far
below the sky. The darkness there
Collage poem by Heather McHugh.
A beige toaster is a maggotbox.
A bit bucket is a data sink.
Farkled is a synonym for hosed.
Flamage is a weenie problem.
and then I breath out because here I have all the universe inside of me and I hold the power to transcend and all it needs is for me to choose the right time and just for the moment I want to stand here, on this road, near the shelter of these green trees, in the brightness, in the brightness, in the brightness, in the brightness, in the brightness under our sun.
Whatever the elements
(it's urban/it's pastoral,
it's empty/it's open), the theory says
it could always be worse.
Until it is. Then theory fails,
Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay, on mortality and death.
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