The first time you’re taught the structure
of the atom, you don’t miss similarity
to the solar system. It’s so
clear, your teacher may have even said it.
But no, electrons don’t circle.
They orbit not in rings, but spheres,
much less in smooth loops, but
in uncertain, barely measurable ways.
You don’t, though, quite know
where the planets are just now.
You don’t care about the speck
of dust on the policeman’s jacket.
You care about the universe
of your body, and since you were
feeling good that day, you whispered
reassuring things to the dirt on your hands.
I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
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Blog Archive
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2006
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April
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- Poem
- The Man in Your Garden
- Giving up T.V.
- Jaw
- Habit
- The Coffeeshop's Last Week
- Lost Things
- Driving Tired at Night
- Ecdysis
- Work Routine
- The Imagination of Fathers
- Ugly Days
- ...But the Rent's Low
- Poems That Fail
- Creation
- Hometown
- Acceptance
- Losing the National Debate--A Consolation
- Responsibility
- One Man Down
- Influence
- The Workers Wait Out the Tornado
- Violence of Mind
- Love Note to Me, from Me
- Arguments at Work
- Morning, Early Spring
- Night
- Weather Change
- Routine
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April
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1 comment:
This is just great!
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