The Janitors

They have been too swept up.
None could ever clear enough space
cleared and replaced by space.
The contradiction swells
to a nothing in the thimblerig.
Unruly with liberty,
heavy under composure, there
are no twitches of recognition.
Their homes they neither
leave nor return to.
It is a life. Nonetheless.
Alternatives crowd each other out.
They have set up forward
positions in the bucketlist.
Yolo. It is apparent.
Even their libraries
assist in the vivisection.
And it all appears ideal.
Rational, even.
Here, another fatuate void,
the sole legitimate.
I too have capitulated
and haven’t and have.
Not quite unwoke, but circling
an apotheosis. Entirely
swept clean of being.

4 comments

  1. Mark,

    The picture of the Labyrinth fits perfectly.

    I love the word thimblerig…new to me, but once I looked it up
    I had a great appreciation for its usage in this poem.

    “I too have capitulated
    and haven’t and have.
    Not quite unwoke, but circling
    an apotheosis. Entirely
    swept clean of being.”

    the ultimate anesthetization (?)

    This poem is an intricate extended metaphor.

    Intriguing and well writ.

    Sarah

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  2. Hi Mark

    I look a this very intriguing poem in an esoteric way as the space within oneself; and how this sort of person cleans away all the clutter, the things that interfere with his or her needs, ambitions, desires and becomes isolated in that process. And as they clear things that would seem challenges or impediments, there is never enough space free to satisfy. If we keep circling around the emptiness and never defining why we keep brushing things off, how can we develop to a higher level; we just keep chasing the a false light or expectation obsessively. Of course, I could be wrong here about the essence of this poem but I really like it, the imagery and the mysterious sense of ambiguity. it fascinates.

    Thanks for sharing
    Wendy

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  3. Dear Sarah, Wendy

    Lovely of you both to stop by.

    Wendy, I struggle sometimes with trying to say something specific by using oblique terms, then feeling like all I end up having done is be hideously oblique. Who knows .. perhaps I’ll pull it off one day 🙂 Yes, it’s about “unsatisfiableness” — a condition that passes unnoticed because we’re too consumed with satisfying it. Constant craving for the “next,” world without end …

    And on that cheery note …

    … I wish you both a lovely weekend!

    M.

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  4. Sometimes I get the sense that we largely go through life with our eyes closed; and when we occasionally open them we become caught up in the full stops and commas instead of making sense of the sentence.

    Ah well, perhaps the next level will enlighten; and with seven decades already under my belt, I may well find out sooner rather than later.

    Great word thimblerig and a perfect fit to the sentiment of this very enjoyable poem.

    Douglas.

    Like

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