i will occupy that chair in the hall


(Every year, I make a point of writing a poem on my birthday. This was written the year before last, in January.)

i will occupy that chair in the hall

this ritualistic offering is simple
yet it keeps me steady
i look to myself and concede there is no loss of time
i preserve the being that changes steadily
and wonder at the great tragedy of living

take your turn as your turn invites you
i continue to watch horizons
they shift in colour and duration
they lose their moments and become unstable
imagine a boundary between what is real and what is not

turn the earth slowly
I tip my shovel forward

my favourite is the ocean distant line
where sky subtracts is being from the water
and light can trick infuriating
to paint a line of something hard where
nothing but water and air meet

i shift in place and look for changes
but feel the same through many mornings
i’ve missed this being something other
lacked my own anticipations
yet still stand out in the open

raise a cup in honourthe things i do won’t make me greater
the meaning is lost between these two moments
significance belongs to a world without colour
is colour in a world made of shapes
the earth is no such idiotic space


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