“writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. we are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. it's like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. you can't stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.”
- anne lamott

Sunday, April 8, 2012

the history of my stupidity

the history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
would have tended nevertheless toward the candle’s flame.

others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
the little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.

i would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
the time when i was among their adherents
who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.

but all of them would have one subject, desire,
if only my own—but no, not at all; alas,
i was driven because i wanted to be like others.
i was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.

the history of my stupidity will not be written.
for one thing, it’s late. and the truth is laborious.

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