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MILD


of course it is a kind of acquiescence
to not want to put up anymore
with extremes of temperament
and weather–and as much
as you were taught
that everything worth saving
would air out, resolve itself,
faith is a luxury you don’t
have time for right now
(and it would be nice if
your work seemed to be going
somewhere, instead of maintaining
your cautious minimal life,
the careful guarding against the entropy
you know is happening daily
—your foremost skill is the slowing
of the erosion you’ve inherited, that’s
your quintessence, soul-encoded—
it is a kind of cowardice
to shun heat and cold
for warmth; it is a kind of passivity
inexcusable but understandable;
it is a retreat adored and reviled;
it is a yearning scorned and met mute,
left mute.
of course it is a kind of acquiescence
to crave the comfortable middle,
the humble mediocrity
you see being taken away from you—
of course it is a kind of acquiescence
to desire desperately the inoffensive,
the wholesome, the nonthreatening,
the clean, the average, the predictable,
the transparent. of course
it is an indulgence of the worst kind.
Posted 07/10/10
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