Revisiting Kane
Shortly after I watched Rosebud
blaze and then turn to full burn
in the flames, I pinched my hand
on a do-it-all mop I had to use
to clean up puppy piss, and I thought:
Wait a minute and what the hell?
Who gets a moment of fame
and recognition, who is remembered
and for what, how many times did who
scrub a damned toilet, make a bed,
launder the clothes of the beloved,
cook food for the three and twice
as many who may show up, callus
knees in the labor of nurturing
herbs and peonies, sweat buckets
beneath the glaring lights of the birthing
room, bruise and bend and bruise again,
how much did who know what it is
to simply feel alive and be part of the picture
that will never be a picture?
2 comments:
beautifully done. filled with gratitude and love and acceptance. one covets the fulfilment and ecstasy of your day to day awareness. and your do-it-all mop hah. better puppy piss, though, than a cat that pisses on the stove every night, and no matter how much you clean it, there's the lingering odor when you turn the burner on and start to scramble your eggs for breakfast. ah life!
Puppy piss is indeed much better than cat piss--you can never get that smell out, and I'm sure it makes the scrambled eggs a bit less appealing!
Feels like I need more here, but this is just what came out after I rewatched a clip from Citizen Kane.
As always, thanks for reading me and letting me know what you think about my work, jim...I so appreciate it.
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