things inside that mattered
had been so notably torn that they
had become dangerously lacking in
stability obviously for reasons not
worth mentioning none the
less for the sake
of insight it
was

because they were
given to and not only that handled
by far too many precarious souls the integrity
of the interior had lost so much of its original meaning
much had to be replaced by yours truly “the wish I were”
carpenter walls had been removed and moved for reasons
forgotten and remain in questionable states no doubt
by another’s questionable scheme a kind of
inner borrowed shape which arrived
no doubt by those working
from within the
imagination
like a nest
of wren busy
busy busy if you know
what I mean however the once strong
timbers now had the grimace of barnwood
but even worse than that they echoed with
the same hollow quality & frequency as
a woodpecker beating a dead
snag & you

know what kind of architects they
can be at first it was kind of fascinating
you know the discovering how someone
else would rearrange your home and all
and I suppose in the beginning loved
touching their ideas however
combing through the
now vacant
abode
for
evidence of
the tide that had swept

through where the previous tenant with
thundering actions against hardwood surfaces
with upright angles favored by the original architect
who built the place that it was intended to be
well time and to many hands have
turned not only the interior
but the exterior
of the place
into what now
appears to be a funky
down right dirty mess howbeit a
well lived-in feel that will most likely never

go away—it's in what I call “the worn wood stages”
the cement stepping stones leading to the entrance
have been chipped or cracked from times so long
ago forgotten that the original shapes have
been broken & despondent to say
the least and are now
characterized
only by the
weal of countless
passing feet the paint on the
exterior is layers thick and I now have
reason to believe it may be holding many parts
of the intrinsic structure in place most of the insulated
windows have broken seals and I’m not sure how much
heat I’m losing however they’re all still in place for the
exception of one which has now become an
emergency exit this could be
the reason

I’ve

become so cold walls
that are missing in what used to be the
central living area remain missing and I have doubts if
they could ever be matched let alone replaced windowsills
are scooped like sea shells from the scrolling of the sun
hungry insects who no doubt watched Earl Gibbons
on television back in the ‘60s telling us
“many parts of the pine tree are
eatable” must have
taken him to
heart
as

the main
supports which had held the lid
on this place for so long were now sagging
at various heights you wouldn’t believe it but these
conquistadors have thoroughly tunneled the timbers
in search of God only knows leaving a trail of decay
and many have lost foundations footing which
by the way does seem to be one of the
only things around here that’s
still actually sound
even though

I’ve occasionally
questioned that from time to
time kind of like Crusoe finding a
footprint in the sand it didn’t take
much before I took nought
for granted

Thursday 11:28 Pm2006/03/09