What was it were we doing
before we wandered into this?

Were we sidetracked then from something else?
What was it that we missed?

And what about the thing
that had diverted us before?

The project we were doing when
the knock came at the door?

Could it be that interruptions
nested one inside the next
continue to infinity?

Do you feel a little vexed?


you will come to know it
at the very moment you are
putting off thinking about it

but it will happen to you

and you will try to think
your way out of it, too
or think your way through

as you go, as you actually go

Photo: the window by my desk at home.

Half Mast

No sunset ever called for the
evening’s dim passage, not one, but this:
good ones, they die every day
every day someone’s son, someone’s
mother, or a distant aunt—passes away
many times every day, away, away
the low and the high, kind, selfish, no matter
they’re suddenly gone, just like that
and then their friends and relations
   | are left to grieve |
I cannot fathom how it is we ever
raise a flag above half mast.