Directions

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DIRECTIONS


“This way to the museyroom!” — Finnegan’s Wake


Past the suburban safe-holds

where anything out of standard roof-line

will be granted the space to speak

to the committee at the HOA assembly,

where it will be duly welcomed

to the neighborhood given a few concessions—


Past the school building 

with its troop of broken-backed

children shouldering the weight

of their knowing from room 

to room, their heads growing steadily

heavier until they drop on a desk

and the oil of industry leeches out—


Past most of the churches, even, 

content to gather in their 

ramshackle shelters raised

on the ruins of a temple,

so long as there’s the illusion 

of walls and a safe place

to worship the wilderness.


This way to the museyroom, 

belovéd, and watch your head

as you enter through 

the little, upside-down door, 

though you’re guaranteed to knock it

just before you disappear

through the floorless floor. 

 

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