Curio

I take things and keep things, no sense of regret
but things still remain there, right where they were set

I take things, display things, and covet them too
but I am no thief sir, look here’s what I do

I take with my eyes a thing’s copy in light
and things with my ears, when I did hear them right

I take what I felt with a brush of my hand
and the flavors from dinner, unless they were bland

I keep things in memory, my curio shelves
describe to my guests what they can’t see themselves

I touch things by knowing and recall things, and yet
do forget things as well now, the older I get

~

When the lamp in his curio finally grows dim
it will flicker, go dark—oh well, too bad for him

I, Madness

I host little parties for
the ants and the flowers and we
talk and we talk, for hours and hours
the madness can’t vex us in the way
it does some, it follows and listens
to the songs that we hum.

And we forget everything that we
hear and we say, the minute we hear it
all giggled away, and that’s how
we roll, we won’t let a madness
become such a thing or take
hold, like a sadness.

Elated

Feeling good for no reason
I rise from my bed, early
in accord with all the quizzes
and queues, as they may come.

I am smiling, like a fool who has
forgotten all his needs, and
who then begins to laugh
upon remembering.