Wednesday, January 06, 2010


Watching ladders
of light climb,
brighten, fade
on the wall:
an old mop
and its bucket
of water, both
too saturated
with old messes
to clean anything.

We only move
the dirt around
when we move
together, but
the streaks
are moist
and new
for now,
and it is

(Starting Over, day 1. Via


Etvoit said...

This poem and "In Poetry, The Body" are so beautiful. your imagery is lovely--your words carefully chosen. i love, love that you seem to use line breaks purposefully rather than arbitrarily breaking up rhythm. i will keep reading :)

Anonymous said...

You've created such a great metaphor here and delivered it with perfect simplicity. Love it--especially the last two lines--great work!

Radio Nowhere said...

You paint so wonderfully with words. Very visual writing.

Anonymous said...

i really like this: "too saturated
with old messes to clean anything."

yes. yes.

Oleacae said...

Oh! I never commented on this but I already shared it with a friend because I love it! The image of this old, dirty mop and its relationship with the word "saturation" is sensual and stirring. Really creative :)