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