When in doubt, keep moving

To a certain extent I am convinced
it is the making of things that might save us.

I am not saying there are certain types of lassitude
or pain, doubt or indeterminate sadness,

that will refuse to be governed. But isn’t it also true
we don’t really think when we drive the points

of ice picks through the dull silver bottoms of tin
cans— It’s like we’ve always known gravity

has the power to override numerous intentions.
This was before we even learned

of Sisyphus’ stumbling labors. Also
there are things whose rhythms dictate

their repetition, that don’t seem to need
explaining— Just watch how the cool water

from a pail runs in streams: how what’s parceled out
sieves over the still invisible, whose tendrils

have not even broken through the pericarp.
Sometimes it takes that long to soften the skin.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Ennui 2.

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