The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Tuesday, April 8, 2025

Some of the Questions to Consider

 

Is it better to offer your heart to the wolf
or wait for the wolf to tear it out of you?
It's hard to know which is worse,
the nightmare of approaching tornadoes
or waking from the dream your parents were alive in.
Enter the ominous music announcing the shark.
It is best to disappear into one's work.
Best to be ceaselessly drunk, Baudelaire suggested,
mentioning other things besides wine but most people
ignored that part, because who wants to be drunk on virtue?
Misreadings are best. Misunderstandings are also best
but to be misunderstood is not the goal.
I don't need drugs, I am drugs, Dali famously said,
and drew his wife's face exploding into spheres.
What do all these wildflowers mean? Just look,
said a famous American painter who, drunk, drove his convertible
off the road into the trees and flew headfirst into an oak.
We're all afloat in the same solution.
Would you like to trade some molecules with me?
Better to sketch a few atoms than fire neutrons at them
to create a chain reaction. The adult human body contains
7 octillion atoms and one picnic table. Is it time to go?
Not yet, not yet. Let's meet for an aperitivo.
Let's build a pineapple from all this fresh snow.
 
--Kim Addonizio


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