In the morning, the committee of foam
And dust motes, the flecks from the waves,
The suspended bits of soil and microbes
Turning in the sun, agreed to give self a turn.
Self immediately disappeared, in the way
Of all selves, by means of self reference
Dependent on words that no self could own.
I have been angry at the world for being
The world it is, and that intractably. I gave
My life over to trying to be good to life,
To loving life, to studying life, to teaching life
In its extravagant evolutions to others,
And eagerly to attempting to prove myself
A good citizen of life. That included sex,
And savor, and serious communion
With humans and with moments in the trees.
But life is the lover that breaks all our hearts.
I woke to the first yellow fingers of daylight
Finding their way into the room, parting
The branches overhead, probing windows.
Let another thermodynamic cascade begin.
Let entropy, locally, be lowered a little again.
Let the squirrels scamper over the roof,
The birds demand territory and copulations,
The dust motes float on the foaming world.
Let body sigh within me and me within body.
I have half a mind to forgive such cruelty.
But at this point, mind and body objected
To being made to sound like secondary
Properties of the self, and they rescinded
Permission for self to speak as if alone.
Awareness turned to longing, and thoughts
Turned to distractions, the plans of the day,
Any means of being beyond self and pity.
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