(This reminded me of Curious George, for some reason)
I remember that story about the monkey who was so curious,
he ate himself a piece of the puzzle
and got himself sick.
I wonder what it might taste like,
if I were to nibble on a piece of the looming Eiffel Tower
or the twisting, turning Great Wall of China
or maybe a flower floating on a still pond
or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle caught in motion
or the edge of floating Earth as shown from space
or maybe even some home-made puzzle
cobbled together with photographs of those I love
and have loved.
I’d injest that montage of sharp edges and soft lines slowly
so that I could savor the experience,
as if the pieces might still come together as one and make me a memory
I will never forget.
I see
the challenge spread before us.
See the gaps
the bits together we must join.
See out
the glassened windows (keep them closed!)
And spot, at once, immediate,
the danger
inherent in that rectangular floor-bound radiator grill.
How can we put all this together
When
Should one tiny bit elude us?
Better not to start.
Avoid the mess.
Avoid the challenge.
Avoid the chance that
we might fail
to get each tiny bit
exactly right.
Just box it up.
We’ll leave it to another group.
Another team of souls adventurous,
Adventurous enough to do it first.
Second. Or third.
Send me a picture when it’s done.
That’s good enough for them.
(This reminded me of Curious George, for some reason)
I remember that story about the monkey who was so curious,
he ate himself a piece of the puzzle
and got himself sick.
I wonder what it might taste like,
if I were to nibble on a piece of the looming Eiffel Tower
or the twisting, turning Great Wall of China
or maybe a flower floating on a still pond
or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle caught in motion
or the edge of floating Earth as shown from space
or maybe even some home-made puzzle
cobbled together with photographs of those I love
and have loved.
I’d injest that montage of sharp edges and soft lines slowly
so that I could savor the experience,
as if the pieces might still come together as one and make me a memory
I will never forget.
http://vocaroo.com/?media=vsn9UwyY8cz25WIaZ
Lovely. (Curious George is one of our heroes.) But what great metaphor for learning and meaning making!
A little bile, a little congestion
Too much fever, over-reacting white blood cells
Pieces of the puzzle give no answers
And, in the meantime, we wait.
I’m puzzled by
why we don’t fit anymore
all the pieces are there
but now they are scattered
and I have not the desire to
put it back together
yet
Once
my life made sense
organized, fun, happy
but now
I feel scattered
and shattered
will I ever see the picture
these pieces make
again?
I like the way you use scattered and shattered, Erin — it provides a rhythmic center to the poem.
Kevin
I see
the challenge spread before us.
See the gaps
the bits together we must join.
See out
the glassened windows (keep them closed!)
And spot, at once, immediate,
the danger
inherent in that rectangular floor-bound radiator grill.
How can we put all this together
When
Should one tiny bit elude us?
Better not to start.
Avoid the mess.
Avoid the challenge.
Avoid the chance that
we might fail
to get each tiny bit
exactly right.
Just box it up.
We’ll leave it to another group.
Another team of souls adventurous,
Adventurous enough to do it first.
Second. Or third.
Send me a picture when it’s done.
That’s good enough for them.
“Send me a picture when it’s done” — nice
Kevin