Tuesday, April 14, 2009

trying not to stub my toe too much before they put a tag on it

the light bulb blew out
in the lamp
next to the couch

a pop & a flash
& then

like one of the stealthier
members of the paparazzi
finally snapping a photograph
of death

fumbling through a drawer
in the dark
for a new one
i screwed it in

the old one
still very warm
though dead
in my hand

a black spot
on it
like a smudge
on the crown
of a skull

along w/something
that had come loose inside
pinging within
the glass walls

a $1 store death's head baby rattle

an obsolete cartoon idea
above no one's head

& the new bulb illuminating things
ten watts brighter
than the one before it

sharpening the clutter
the edges & mouths of corners
in the room a little more

how lucky we are for this
that allows us to see the jaws
& shadows awaiting
& precariously stacked accumulations
of dull objects

how lucky we are
that it saves us from stubbing our toe
before the tag
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.