it's the awakening that counts...

trying hard

making the doing

some random act of kindness

it’s the awakening that counts…

when the blood's escaping

covering my shoes,

making certain

random holes get stopped-up clean

(why, when there is no air left to breath,

do I seldom hear from survivors

who've spent their time drowning?)

it’s the broom closet that counts…

rumored to hide away its captives

once set free into this 

world of decaying dusty

back here on earth

when I read about more persecution trials,

my eyes squint toward

those dank abject rooms

where the guilty must hide:

classrooms, courtrooms, bus station restrooms, candystores,

deserted green retreats,

Zion,

Hades

(where the laundromat closed 10 minutes ago)

yes, it’s the distance that blows my mind,

the utter vastness perceived

crouching behind my shade glasses 

that neutralize the confusing,

those necessary patterns of contrast

(you see, we may agree it’s all black and white,

but how do you explain “blindness”?)

answer: “blindness” cannot be looked up in dictionaries:

                    it is a state without context

                    hinting at a sensation experienced 

                    after sitting still too long a period of time

                    when movement became abstract

                    categorically impossible to unravel

6/68

Paterson