of not just things, but future projects
the fond belief that retired objects might find new life,
given new contexts and needs,
the 4 inches of paint in the hue of clouds
might one day lend atmosphere to another wall.
A shelf sags with stale volumes along the far wall,
as if those years of education required such accumulation.
Learning is wealth, they say. Open one to clouds
of mold forming over Ovid’s metamorphic projects.
Step past the lava lamp, the terrarium; such fancies were needs
and have yet to relinquish their claim to a certain life.
Who says that current use of current equals life;
so animated, this might be how the wall of
dated CPUs and VCRs would represent needs,
a one plus one plus one accumulation
of history, development, innovation, an accretion that projects
into deep space, piled high through the mantle of clouds,
a little apologetic or nostalgic for those old clouds
that seemed to promise a new lease on life.
There’s the potter’s wheel, the pasta machine, other projects
waiting to be taken on, crab nets hanging from the wall,
not just memories but the accumulation
of seasonal returns, odd ends and possibilities for unforeseen needs.
And if not our needs than Goodwill or fire victims’ needs,
the dishes for a first apartment. We can’t all live on clouds,
can we? Stuff has its use, just look at this accumulation,
undiscarded, disregarded, but patiently awaiting a life
that welcomes its good bones, offers a wall
for its framed landscape. A light projects
from a drafting lamp missing its clamp, projects
upon an earthen flowerpot, upon a bike that needs
a wheel, casts vast shadows upon the wall
in shapes of elephants and locomotives, or clouds
shaped like elephants and locomotives, twice removed from a life
lived fully upstairs, not quite free from this massed accumulation.
Though there’s shelter in a wall and future in home projects
if one’s lost beneath such accumulation, one needs
only to look to clouds, their gathering and dispersing shaping life.