yesteryear I broke a teacup
then another the better
to repair the first
which fell, the second
hammer-struck. later in my
dispresence slipped two
bowls who have now waited
long months for me
to mix again epoxy
into an existence more heated and
temporal than its two components.
bound too by repair and destruction
are my relationships with time,
or by disposal, which absents both
in waste. disposal like waterfalls
is better visited than
inhabited, lest one cease
to hear for it lacks the attention
of destruction or repair both
of which I see a yearning for,
a striving alternating
or synthesized in salvage
and ferment, who triage
and create from a centrifugal
stubbornness; repair and destruction
combine much better than
despair and restructuring,
which together make but
acclimation.