there are those who investigate life

in deep caverns, rivers flow
rivers go where no soul dares
where the air is strict and steady biding
and time alone is climbing
where dark and desperation dwell –
all these things are known so well.

here above ground the sound of feet
on deckboards slapping wet from pool
in sun and summer heat and haze
these movers move their days

there’s nothing to criticize or punish
just languor and language of the hurried
and all those that are worried
take their cares and piss them into the water
which is amassed so it cannot turn yellow
or stain in any way with any sign
of impurity

here they wander back and forth
engrossed in pleasures new and old
but who will clean the dishes later?
And who will feed the children?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s