From an anonymous alumnus.

The Thing

So this is the thing
I now know what the citizens have been celebrating
Something like happiness

Hilltops anonymous
Treefarers ridings the northwestern winds
Stake out at the Five Star
Just for dimes and green tea or something

The eye above the city descending
Tails trailing behind and before it
Doesn’t even see me
I’m right here where I’ve always been and I’m about to leave
Persuade me to stay
Why wouldn’t I?

I was to be Isaiah
Why can’t I be the prophet and the privileged?
It was easier then
When I didn’t know what I’d laid on the alter
And I was sure I knew and was proud of it

The orange moon through the trees through the wrong lens
Potential unmatched beauty
But it will soon be plain, by the time I’m prepared
But I have to keep staring to see what’s left of the spectacle

To Make Sense

Sometimes I try to make sense of the thing
I have no eyes for love
No hands for touch
No ears for understanding
What do I have and why do I have it?

I rummage through the ancient city
Fighting relentless sandstorms
Fighting advancing civilization
They don’t fight back
I keep the land barren
Just so I can make sense of the land

You want to disintegrate
But I interrogate the dust
Until it forms your shape again and again

Why do I have it?
And why can’t I give it away?
I keep the land barren
Still as a tombstone
The rock of an age

From your fallen fingernail I create you
I ask her everything
And let you exist in a world in which I don’t
And never did
Like an image in a cloud
My shape forgotten and altered with a steady blow

I know my pantry is empty
But I open up the doors
Every morning, 10 fingers, two handles
An empty can would make me happy

Why can’t I give it away?
And where can it be buried?
No tombs have capacity
For the life that I imagine
Where everything makes sense
Even though it doesn’t