sometimes when i’m emotional, i don’t know what will happen next

bread rises in my heart like weeds that spawn
overnight, like an inevitably rising tide of want
and corruption. trash piles up in the streets.
oak tendrils drift and eddy along every windshield
on my block. somewhere in among these currents
lies the creative spark. i know this. and still,
it seems impossible to tell waste from growth:
this sensation will grow, devour itself, and die.
yet here is the warm, mothering smell of yeast.
here, the tender moisture of a tea-towel shroud.
i have stretched and pulled the dough, i have known
it with both hands: a web, a stone, a trap, a child.
the brown, glutinous lump, within which i can sense
something fermented and self-defeating going on,
appears to me both tragic and mysterious. alive.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “sometimes when i’m emotional, i don’t know what will happen next

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s