Strewn-Paper Life

It’s spread scattered bare smeared

All over my world

Like papers strewn

On swiftly tilting tables

Never stable

Writing sprouting and

Recording and

What’s left to tell?

There it lies, my life,

Of my classes

And girlfriend

And hopes

Silent ends

Answers to a question

I didn’t know I was living.

And when all the words are gone,

All used up,

The paper black,

The inkwell dry as desert,

Then it all folds up

Into a neat regulated folder

And goes on down,

Sealed with me,

Finally collected

In a box under the ground