[haiku url=”https://www.kenyonreview.org/wp-content/uploads/clay-9-25-12.mp3″]
Reconsidering or considering companionship seems
too studious or perhaps
even too stubborn
for someone
as careful as yourself. This pathway
pardons care, but what you have when you’re all free of care
and gardens makes
as much sense
as where you began.
America’s farmlands haunt your syntax,
your sense of being, or at least
the filter between an object and your notion of
whatever it means
to exist as an object.
To be ablaze inside the color blue like a fixed identity
is to place a word
over here and another word there beneath
the first one. This life maintains
its level of supposing so stoically
that you would think intention had given birth to it.
