lundi, octobre 10, 2005

On Needles and Haystacks

It's not lost, because I never had it
But still I feel it missing
and I've seen the finger pointing
in the vague direction
of an endless silo
I've followed that sign
and found a world of straw
and though I've never seen it,
I am told there are needles here
for the taking
if one can only find them.

"How am I to do such a thing?"
But receiving no clear answer,
like everyone else, I pick up a handful and sort
and then another
and another
and then in desperation
crush the straw with my bare hands
hoping to be hurt
by the point
and thus discover what it is I want
but haven't found.

"How does one find a needle?" I ask again

A friend responds,
"soak the hay in water.
The hay will float,
the needle sink."

So I plunge an armful
of dry stalks
into a tub of water
and wait,
and sift,
and look.
I find no needle drowning
in the bottom of my tub.
And what use, anyways,
was a thing I myself
had drown to find?

After time has slipped
I lie down near the floor
determined to find what
I am looking for.
I begin again in earnest.
One straw, one straw, one straw...
time consuming, this.
I feel fevered
I almost collapse
I can not tell
if the straw
is moving
or I am
but I fall
and lay
in the
straw
and
sleep.

And I'm still sleeping
and in this sleep I am looking
always looking
and finding straw
that looks like needles
and needles that look like straw
half-breeds: both straw and needle
and other bits of shiny rubbish
smoldering beneath the hay
beckoning the eye,
but nothing, nothing
like the thing I'm looking for.

and then in half-punctured sleep
of purpose I remember
softly folded
in my eyes
a mystery
or a puzzle
or a rhyme I haven't
sorted
and it resolves into a thought,
a voice that says,
"It's a man, not a needle."

And men are waiting everywhere
to be considered
sifted
looked at
begged
ignored
caressed
but also they are looking,
sifting, seeing
as though dreaming
and I am not alone
in this search.
And I am not a needle
but I am also
being searched for
only half a needle
an eye
or a point
unhinged
whole, yet broken
and waiting to be fused.