Saturday, May 25, 2024

Clutter - May 24 2024

 

Clutter

May 24 2024


I am at home in clutter.

Tchotchkes,

collectors of dust,

the stuff I dropped

and failed to pick-up.

Because why trouble myself

when I know exactly

where I left it?


Nor am I bothered

by a cluttered mind,

bursting with facts

trivia

plans;

with memories

I can’t recollect,

feelings

I don’t understand.


Perhaps, if I sought more clarity

I’d be better off.

If I sat

cross-legged

in a sparsely furnished room

in pin-drop quiet.

If the walls were white

blinds drawn

lights nicely dimmed.

Could minimalism

be a better choice

than hodgepodge gallimaufry?


Trouble is

I am comfortable with clutter

and prefer it here

in a place I call my own

that’s rumpled

lived-in

homey.

And after all

why neaten up

when it’s been so long

since I even noticed?


Nor am I bothered

by the racing thoughts

that ricochet off my skull.

An overheated cortex

that threatens to overflow.

The monkey chatter

that goes on and on

no matter what.


Questioning

answering

and wondering why.

Talking to myself

nonstop;

even out loud, sometimes.


My poetry is rarely autobiographical. The cluttered surroundings certainly are not. (I prefer order!) I suppose it should be more personal, confessional, authentically intimate. Most poetry is. Contemporary poetry, anyway.

However, the cluttered mind and monkey chatter are absolutely me! Even the talking out loud. But only when I’m alone, I hasten to add.

The white-walled room is a bit of a pet peeve. Because I’ve noticed how all the interiors in the real estate listings and house beautiful spreads are invariably this cold sterile white. Which I quite dislike. The clean spare look is fine if you want to create an impression of order and roominess for a prospective buyer. But it’s not any place I’d like to actually live. I prefer warm woods and earth-tones. I suspect that future decorators will look back on this fad just as we look aghast at the turquoise walls and deep shag rugs of the 1960s. I doubt it’s a look that will age well.

(Coincidentally, in editing this poem, the following article appeared in the weekend Globe. These are exactly the sort of interiors I prefer.


PHroouused

The Globe and Mail (Ontario Edition)

May 25, 2024

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