Kit Kelen #984 - paradoxes of home

984

paradoxes of home

one must wake up slowly to this
as from the thorough dark

the more there is that's done

the more there is to do

piles! like gravel, books

and I still have to write

to scribble, to shovel

trees and there's sky yet to reach

down with potatoes!

to every little shack its tank

one must wake up slowly to this

garden is never enough to drink

because time is free

there are not enough hours

when the block was blank

truth of the place shone through

and now the past is borne about

in barrows, by wire, feet fray the rug

it falls to me to care

for all these branches, leaves among us

gently and gently

in to myself

heart left everywhere behind

one must wake up slowly to this

enough must grow to more

grass treasures

I myself creaking

already buried alive

in ramshackle order

paradise of all here at home

contracted thus with world

so many wings here

must be from far

blowfly blows in

just to say spring

my own face bright

as much as home