photo/ willow/ magpie tales
Here it is, the canvas of my life.
Time for maintenance.
It's better to sweep
a wide swathe of detritus away,
than to paper over
all the mistakes of the past.
I grab a useful brush,
not unlike the toothy kind,
and scrape against the accumulated plaque.
Then spray a scent to cover my exhalation,
as if fragrance itself equals
Now the image of my years
is spread before me.
I try to float the dust
out of well worn crevices,
like Sisyphus pushing a ton of rubbish uphill.
Did he reach the top?
A rolling stone seeks its level
and gravity triumphs against a wanting soul,
no matter how serious the intent to win.
Whatever winning is.
Here's the likeness, brush it clean.
What seems a sketchy existence
stubbornly clings like skin.
Down on my hands and knees I go,
like some indentured servant.
@copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010
One more time, I'd like to thank Willow at magpie tales for being a weekly inspiration to all of us in Blogland. I certainly look forward to one more enigmatic photo, from which springs....