The Cave
There is no place to live anymore
Here only do we bristle at the thought
Of the day’s repetition
Canned air fresh, only the vague hint
Of sunlight in crevices near rooftops
There is something that can be said
About total order, the animal’s duty is
To resist the removal of the primal urge
Each day, someone tells us how to inhabit
Our space, good, bad, indifferently blood
Will continue to follow its path and become
What the tide not the fake computer generated
Tide signals and carries us away to where
Our sorrow will be excavated
Do we die in the blackness on a stone stool?
0ur clay fingers soaked by rain
And returning to the earth…
The incapacitated will view monstrosities
As if they were a historical carnival exhibit
(We’d rather escape the temporary)
We can no longer live at the center
Without the balance required being human
A place where the curious are punished
At least discouraged from their thoughts
Because one day they too will be put
On display for all to bear witness…
by Micah Zevin 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
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