reasonable but
nevertheless too often
we slow down for fog
Adapted from, You Came with Shells by June Jordan.
You came with shells. And left them:
shells.
They lay beautiful on the table.
Now they lie on my desk
peculiar
extraordinary under 60 watts.
This morning I disturb I destroy the window
(and its light) by moving my feet
in the water. There.
It’s gone.
Last night the moon ranged from the left
to the right side
of the windshield. Only white lines
on a road strike me as
reasonable but
nevertheless and too often
we slow down for the fog.
I was going to say a natural environment
means this or
I was going to say we remain out of our
element or
sometimes you can get away completely
but the shells
will tell about the howling
and the loss
In a borough that has landmarks for the writers Thomas Wolfe, W. H. Auden, and Henry Miller, to name just three, there ought to be a street in Bed-Stuy called June Jordan Place, and maybe a plaque reading, ‘A Poet and Soldier for Humanity Was Born Here,” said American playwright, journalist, librettist, novelist, poet, and screenwriter, Thulani Davis.
Nevertheless.
We slow down for the fog.
Too often.
We slow down for the fog.
What might be in the fog?
Giants maybe?
Windmills?
Tie Sherlock Holmes with Don Quixote and you get the line from the movie, “They Might Be Giants where Mr. Holmes comments:
“Well he had a point.
Of course, he carried it a bit too far.
He thought that every windmill was a giant.
That’s insane.
But, thinking that they might be…well…all the best minds used to think the world was flat.“
Sometimes you can get away completely …
But the shells …
They might be …
Reason?
Reasonable?
But the shells.
Will tell about the howling.
And the loss.
No Haiku For You 