Ode to the Chaos of the Desk

it's pretty bad...

The desk is never clean, as it seems to be inevitable;
On the shelves in the corner, the indelible footprint
Of tools lost to the strata,
Pads of data, lost X's and missed points,
The moist tip of the pen dipped to touch
The graphings of the stratosphere,
Disappearing here, below the loose strings,
Some sharp things and shale;

A mother's words,
Hailing a journey along a rail
If the order of the state were not
Impeccably clear until the tabletop.

Tragedy be, I can't stop
The endless shifting mysteries
That tend my insecurities
With the visual assureties
That this too shall pass,
And fast,

Before you know it
The score is showing
A big shift in your holdings,

And the knowing piles just smile
And say

"Show up to the flow,
and before you know it,
You're part of the show,
And every idling hour
Spent scrubbing your temple,
Was just another moment polishing
The brass knockers on your tomb."

Reviews

[SHEEMA HUQ]

Your ingenuity as a poet who depicts an enviornment and a range of feelings is simply, spellbinding, your word play is most impressive also, fabulous, I say!

[David Aiello]

thank you so much! that is really kind of you to say!
^_______^

a theme that I find sorta umbrellas what I'm playing with in most of my work is dreamspace, and sorta playing with gradations between subtle and abstract representational stuff. I admit, I have no idea if that applies, but it felt like the description/response that came to mind, so thank you so much again!
^_____^

[SHEEMA HUQ]

Honestly, no need for double, thank yous, it is my pleasure to comment, I might just subscribe to your work and read on, I really like quite a few pieces, stay blessed.