Poem: Please Get Out of My House

Please Get Out of My House

It would be different
if you were a cat
or perhaps a small lizard,
but this does not work,
not at all.  It is not personal,
but you are a duck
and do not seem to have
any understanding of manners,
of how company should behave,
have already made such a mess,
white stains on the tiles, the walls,
the smell of it all, and the noise of you,
and it does not seem you are happy:
we have nothing for you, not even a filled tub,
but each time I open the door
you only honk again and gnash at me
with your beak, and I do not want
another encounter like that,
so I am asking, though it seems silly,
because perhaps you will understand,
will realize that I do not mean harm,
that I am only seeking to show you
the path back to the freedom of open sky.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What is this whole blog thing for anyway?

I am starting this because I said I would.  My friend Tim persuaded me, and that was probably a far more difficult and complicated maneuver on his part, that I should start this blog, and I made a commitment that I would, so here I am.  Which gives a reason for why this blog exists, but not really much of a purpose for that to lend meaning to that existence, which makes it like a lot of us, I suppose.  Of course, there are two purposes to this exercise, though there might only be one at a time, as they are largely about perspective, I think.  For instance, right now, a large part of the purpose, for me, is to have the commitment of adding to this blog consistently, as a matter of building the habit of working more steadily.  I have built that habit before, but it has always been intermittent, largely driven by situational demands.  In college, many years ago, I wrote daily, because I had an audience and because I was in classes that I felt committed to wr...
Read more

Part Three Is Coming

I want to apologize for the lateness of my post today.  Last night, I was out of town and only arrived home this afternoon.  It being a quick trip,. I decided not to bring a computer and to do my work when I arrived home, so I will be reading the next chapter and writing today's post shortly. While I am on here, though, I wanted to return, momentarily to questions I raised earlier.  One issue that I hadn't mentioned, although it is something that I have wrestled with previously, concerning the personal, is that I am not entirely comfortable speaking about third parties that I personally know in the context of written work.  This is largely because those people are not present as I am communicating, and they have not given any actual permission for me to discuss them.  That having  been said, I do feel a bit of leeway about telling things of myself.  For example. I feel very strange about yesterday, as it was Friday the 13th and I had a number of un...
Read more

Le Guin, Steering The Craft, Chapter Five: Adjectives and Adverbs (Exercise Five, Chastity)

A note of apology for my lateness with this.  I had expected to have time earlier in the day, but it was not to be, alas.  Anyhow, I am still a bit nervous about this exercise, though it is clearly of significant import to Le Guin, as she points out that it is the only exercise that she has given to all of her workshops.  That, of course, does not alter my feelings about it, excepting that I am aware of it as something valuable and worth doing, so the fact that it is a bit daunting might well be seen, through that light, as a promise of reward, perhaps.  The more difficult the task, the more one has to gain, at least by some logic... Exercise Five: Chastity Mr. Torino was in charge.  He had his way.  It was the way.  Desktops are clean.  Nothing but work.  No pictures: not your kids; not your girl or wife; not (as Allen recounted) your car.   None of that.  No plants.  No cartoons.  That is for home, this is work....
Read more