ライアン・ダニエル・ドブソンのインスタグラム(ryanddobson) - 5月7日 01時58分

Here's a poem I haven't been able to dislodge from my brain. Every time I read it, I think of Instagram #foodporn - this poem is my corrective. It makes me want to wring out time. So here's an ironic photo of coffee and a doily to go with it. ----- No Things

This love for everyday things,
part natural from the wide eye of infancy,
part a literary calculation,

this attention to the morning flower
and later to a fly strolling
along the rim if a wineglass-

are we just avoiding our one true destiny
when we do that, averting our glance
from Philip Larkin who waits for us in an undertaker's coat?

The leafless branches against the sky
will not save anyone from the void ahead,
nor will the sugar bowl or the sugar spoon on the table.
So why bother with the checkered lighthouse?
Why waste time on the sparrow,
or the wildflowers along the roadside

when we all should be alone in our rooms
throwing ourselves at the wall of life
and the opposite wall of death.

the door locked behind us
as we hurl rocks at the question of meaning
and the enigma of our origins?

What good is the firefly,
the droplet running along the green leaf,
or even the bar of soap sliding around the bathtub

when we are really meant to be
banging away on the mystery
as hard as we can and to hell with the neighbors?

banging away on the nothingness itself,
some with our foreheads,
others with the maul of sense, the raised jawbone of poetry. -- Billy Collins

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