(provisions)

I go out
to gather up
emergency provisions.
One at a time.
First food,
then charcoal
to cook it on.
Next I think
of candles.
Settling them
in the drawer
I realize we are
low on matches.
And then
the real list
begins:
my journal books
for the year,
reams of paper,
a back up cartridge
for the printer
– what else?

A nervousness
hovers.
I want this
thing to be over,
to be back
to what I call
Real Life.
I meant to do
some ritual
this afternoon,
but I am doing
laundry instead.
Determined not to
drag dirty clothes
into the New Year –
this millenium
thing, they keep
talking of.
Metaphorical.
Symbolic.
Real.
I realize then that
I failed to stock up
on laundry soap.
As I have been

(no stanza break) realizing
I have failed
at many things
I set out for.
Afraid to look
in the drawers
again, at the
unfinished work
still there.
Gathering up
my will
to go on,
with sources of inspiration,
tricks of the trade –
hole punched
& placed in black
notebooks, which line
the shelf above
the desk.
Gathering up
my intentions
with mantras,
like “push on.”
“Push through.”
I begin to see
my life
like a long
sled ride,
where I have
forgotten what
town burns
bright on the
valley floor
below.
Where it was
I meant to
go.

12/30/99