I don’t want a TV anymore. I’m ready to
trade it in for another bookshelf.
Sometimes I want to move to the top of
a mountain somewhere. Find a monastery.
Shave my head. Vow of silence. I
could sit for hours in the perfect, absolute silence.
This would all be someone else’s past.
It’d be so easy. Running is the easiest
I could turn off my cell phone.
(Not that anyone calls.)
I could separate myself from the computer.
(Connection terminated by host — good for you.)
I’ll eat only Cheerios, drink only
coffee. Return someday, emaciated, enlightened,
well-read. I will have forgotten.
I will write myself under erasure,
‘I have entered / and live in our
‘You put water into a cup, it becomes a cup…’