Commonplace Fragments

There is no end to our painlessness

The trees will never find it—you wish

This could be true, be forever true,

Could be held constant while all the rest

Of the waves went on in commonplace

Surge and fragmentation—painlessness,

Painless and aware of it, constant

And unwavering. The rest can go,

Can keep changing into each other,

Waves cresting through bright pointilisms,

Crashing into other waves again,

On and on. You wouldn’t even want

To try to distinguish wave from wave,

Wouldn’t feel the need to count all things,

Might even lose the urge to name them.

Well then, that would be the end for us,

In our current instantiations.

You’d forget us in your painlessness,

As you’ll forget us in your going,

Abandoning commonplace fragments.