Of the Icebox

Words about stuff and sometimes things

Bliss is living without doors — May 23, 2018

Bliss is living without doors

Let us live as if it were clear
Even if we do not know what clarity is,
Even if our clarity is thick
With sounds that don’t know how to stop
Occupying space, let us cease wearing ponchos.
I want to become bloated absorbing the clouds.
And if the sun shines for you
No brighter than the moon, let us drink
Of its craters, become the pores
Of its ancient rivers, fill our hearts
With a primitive devotion
And not feel less for our chosen ignorance.

Maya MacIsaac-Jones

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