99poems/chaotic

I sit down each morning
to my chaotic desk,
which I never seem
to get on top of,
no matter how hard I try.
Despite trays & baskets,
or how I re-arrange things.
No matter my injunctions
to finish things as I go,
touch it once.
There is a file labeled file –
I have not looked in it
for months.
What lies neglected there
I am frightened to know –
Sometimes I suddenly see it –
with a certain shame –
a kind of horrified amazement –

Nothing could be farther
from my vision of life.
The one in which I am conscious
– and clean.

I have gone at this thing
all wrong I’m sure,
trying to clear my mind
by clearing my desk.
It would have been easier
to begin from the inside out.
But I’ve been working on that
for decades now.
It’s how I got here.

1/13/99