This Is The Next Installment In The Ongoing Poem Series About the Winter of 2005

December 29, 2005
I was talking with Bill last night

about my constant preoccupation these days
Seeing and noticing

And he was saying that
when he goes for a walk
and tunes in to that mode of looking
what he tends to see is grit

And I wanted to say that I see a lot of grit too nothing wrong with that
I especially notice it on windowsills and in the gutter
but I don’t tend to focus on it
It doesn’t go by completely unseen like say the telephone wires
but it’s low on my list
because it’s grit
Yet I think it’s just as valid and interesting really
to see the unattractive and unappealing as the attractive and appealing
The patterns the dirt makes on the windowsill after it’s rained
or the strange assortment of flotsam in the gutter
rhinestones, buttons, and small gold stars
in amongst the leaves and cigarette butts and unidentifiable glop
Or the horror of finding four or five small fruit flies
trapped under the cling wrap on top of the leftover cherry pie
That was a sight vastly viscerally unpleasant to see
and of course prompted the pie’s swift trip right into the trash
but still better to have seen than not to have seen
on any number of levels

But for once in my life
I bit my tongue
And it turned out he was talking
about something else entirely
Not grit as in dirt
But grit as in gritty
Grit as in reality
Grit as in seeing what’s actually there
In all its imperfection
Rather than what you think would be there

Smart him
And smart me for shutting up



image source is here