Life, of course, is different. Life is nothing but loose ends.

“And sometimes the thread that seemed to lead so clearly into the heart of the labyrinth turns out to be nothing but tangled string, leaving us alone in the dark, afraid and consumed with the growing belief that the real action is still going on somewhere without us, just around the corner.”

Joanne Harris “blueeyedboy”

Only Don’t Know

Never knowing quite what lies ahead
lost in what may have passed before
while fools ever believe quite literally
the wise seek meaning in metaphor

Racing, chasing, frenetically pacing
the rats are winning this race of men 
do we continue this course we’re on
should we blow it up and start again

Can heaven truly be found on earth
it has been stated as above so below
or does our zen mind show the way
beginner’s mind is to only don’t know

Meditation, medication, masturbation
everyone seeking that sweet release
these days I know less than anything
yet I feel a desperate need for peace

What I like best is the unwritten poem.
It’s like having a crush on somebody,
nothing asked for but imagination—
a smile, a few accidental touches:
pulling on my tie, leaning down so close
I smell the poem’s perfume in her long hair
she’s shaking out on our bright silences.

Peter Cooley, from “A Poem I Didn’t Want to Write,” The Antioch Review (vol. 65, no. 4, Fall 2007)