Perpetuity

It has been nearly four weeks and the leaking has not

stopped. It is paler now. A steady trickle. A prolapse

turns the leak into a whirlpool of expectations.

No apparent reason. The leaking reminds me

I have a train to catch. A tree falls down at the edge

of the forest behind the house. All this wood

to split but the axe is dull and I am too

afraid to sharpen the blade. I should just go buy

another one. The hardware store sells axes for less

than twenty dollars but that is an irresponsible

consumer habit. This is how they get you. Make you

sad and scared about the state of things and so you

contribute to the state of the things as a result.

A cyclical pursuit of doing a little bit better each

day week month year lifetime. No one uses the

same measuring system so it all feels irrelevant.

It has been ten weeks and the leaking has nearly

stopped. The rushes still come. There will always be

room for overwhelming incompleteness. This flow

is an individualist pursuit. A damming of the self.

The tree at the edge of the forest was sixty

years old. When the big snow comes there is wood to burn

in the fireplace. It keeps us warm until spring. I plant

radishes as soon as the ground can welcome them. They

taste bitter. I think I should have harvested them sooner.