Cloudy, With A Chance Of Unknowing
12-7-13
I don’t fear the inevitable end,
the impersonal crumbling disaster
that comes with or without a weeping friend,
or the long zero that follows after.
I know the last explosion of my heart
will cause some collateral damage.
I know the high consolations of art
have never saved a low man on a ledge.
What I fear is dying dumb as a rock,
the secret still safe and the code uncracked,
the obvious key unturned in the lock,
the deer slipping into the woods, untracked.
What the mind can’t know is how not to mind
when thinking loses what thinking can’t find.
