Saturday, May 06, 2006
the lost art of wasting time
- putting everything off
the objectives for the day lean against sagging fences now
the shovels and hoes are covered in dew
parking tickets from places barely remembered go
unpaid another day
tax forms from years i'm not sure i ever lived
slip a day closer to being forgotten
along with letters stamped but never mailed
their thoughts obsolete - their news old
lone socks and quarters are hiding out in the dust
under the bed like the strays that won't go in
here are the windows i once thought of as dirty
but that was an old list of things not done
their dirtiness is relative now
to the other urgent tasks left undone
and therefore, not very dirty any more
may we always have mountains of things that have to be fixed
acres of the unfinished
let us hear as long as we can
the kitchen faucet that drips all day
with its one inscrutable syllable,
and let us have joyous screen doors
with a rip in the corner like this,
an amusement ride the flies dive through
while the moon glowers down
and the stacks of things not done
grow beautifully deep
by david tucker, managing editor of the new jersey star ledger, whose new book, late for work was featured on fresh air on May 2.
it's the perfect shabbat afternoon poem...
