#920 - a map of my mind's mud

Kit's mind map for today  

14.vii.22

920

3.194

a map of my mind’s mud

 

big pile of boxes

 

all colours fancy

though careful how you turn them over

 

creatures, yes there are!

the country, a kind of slaughterhouse

 

you could say nation, think flag

and so salute

 

a printed circuit, cash card

walkways widdershins

these buildings are connected in air

 

you could blink

 

up against the always clock

 

could have been anyone

but look! it’s just me

 

I had this job, jumping up and down

to flatten them – kind of a trampoline with no bounce

that was before they brought in the machine

 

but all sizes, and that is perhaps the point

 

they were sacking the shorties

and I had to go

(because, apparently, that’s easier)

this is old psychology

 

have an appetite for others

we are kind to our kind

 

think in terms of a container terminal

or a mountain of bricks from the previous poem

 

you’ve painted me into a corner again

luckily I have my own rainbow tin

 

a pile of boxes

pre-fab

recycle-ready

or we could burn

 

o! pity!

and here’s the self again

 

it’s after all, winter

mainly we are here to wallow

to lounge, preen, play the part

 

no one’s really said sorry

          (not even to selves)

no one’s done much paying back

 

a god asks why

but the clouds won’t part

so the question trots on

 

how to care for this world after I’m gone?

 

let’s start with the crime that has us all here

start just by admitting a few facts

 

hope is everywhere we go

 

don’t know where I lost my home

I’m not confused at all

 

better try a little tenderness

 

this is how we’ll belong