ship of _heseus

repairing a wall involves art
i do not have

every action is simple in theory
i think

as i observe the anatomy of the screw
the drive to the head  the shank

the angled threads' crest and pitch
for ever unchanged


the pink alabaster calls to me
changing its stripes the tiger shrieks

but dries all the same  uneven and rough
for ever unfix'd by all manner of

paper and sand  when complete
(a wall is never complete

a passing hand reveals
a lump  a nodule  a growth


that must be whitewashed and primed
(we do not guide things' birth

they are given to their own parturition
i think

as I peel the orange  layer after layer
my friend asks why I don't wipe the slate

how to show him the pentimento
how to show him you  on a small wooden bed


fast asleep  with the dark falling just right
from the room next door