Archive
06/15/09 - (2)
Extrinsics
It used to be that possessing things that pleasured me, Assembling highly prized collections — Faulkner first editions, letters, and manuscripts; Victorian Americana furniture, phonographs, and typewriters; La Belle Époch objets d'art — Shaped the daily litany of my acquisitive existence, Provided the substantive gesture of my raison d'être's grand design.
Now, my delusory fascination with extrinsics has dissipated, Been eclipsed, in my twilight years, By my fear's visceral realization that once I'm laid to rest, There won't be so much as an extra inch of space, in my grave, To situate any of my once-favorite treasures. Anticipating my imminent major change of residence, I've pared down to the bare essentials: flesh and bones.
06/15/09 - (2)
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