poem

Ancillary Advantages

Ancillary advantages of an answerless

Existence are made manifest

In the margins between questions

And the ever expanding silences—

Very frustrating—but then it gets boring,

Your mind wanders off, gets lost

In the rescissions of reasons.

You start to toss stones through the moon

And listen for the tiny plinkings

On the other side of the galaxy..

You think how lucky we are Christ

Came around in the era when Crucifixion

Was the standard mode of execution.

If it had been the 19th century

We’d all be wearing necklaces 

Of some poor limp Savior dangling 

Crooked-necked from a hangman’s noose.

At some point life becomes 

Simply the one we chose

But only when it’s too late to choose 

Anything else. 

It’s like getting mad at a bonfire

For making you feel uncomfortably hot

And because you think you hear it laughing

At your low brow complacency. 

It’s not laughing, the flames are trying

To tell you something.

Air crackling out of the burning dead wood

Is the fire tsk-tsking your pointless perseverating.

Someone asks what makes fires so mesmerizing

As a way to break the silence

So someone else puts on another log

And the fire clears its throat

Just before it begins to answer.

3/18/24