Friday, May 10, 2013

The Volcano And The Heretic There

I expect this is going to be a hard weekend for me. A few weeks ago when I was moving around all my stuff for spring cleaning, it occurred to me that I’ve accumulated a lot of junk. I think I’m pretty careful about not buying useless stuff, but even so, over time, I’ve acquired a lot of stuff I don’t really want. So I’m going to dedicate next week to throwing stuff out. Every day I’m going to pick a different area or direction in here, and I’m going to ruthlessly get rid of stuff—donating stuff to groups and just tossing a lot of stuff into the trash. In general I’m not good at getting rid of things—that’s one reason I try to be careful and not buy things I don’t really want—but sometimes if I brace myself and gear up I can get in the mood of the process and enjoy the spirit of cleaning house and, well, then I can really clean house. So this weekend I’m going to start getting my thoughts ready, getting my emotions ready, to really get into spirit of clearing away unwanted junk. This is one way I start.


It’s too bad there is no volcano here.

If there was a volcano around here
I could put stuff on a rickety cart
and drag the cart up a rocky pathway,
trudging along, suffering in the heat,
struggling up to the volcano’s summit,
coughing and squinting in the sulfur fumes.

It would be something like a pilgrimage,
just hauling each load up to the crater.

And it would be something like religious,
staring down into the glowing magma
bubbling up from nobody knows how deep
as if the molten rock is the Earth’s blood.

It would be something like an offering,
me tossing my things into the lava.

Calculators that are twenty years old.

Pants, shirts and neckties that have been hanging
so long in the closet the hanger line
is permanently bent in the fabric.

Zombie DVDs, slasher DVDs
and Sarah Michelle Gellar DVDs.

Random gadgets that I haven’t bothered
buying batteries for in a decade.

It would be something like an offering,
me tossing my things into the lava.

As I type these words someone’s reading them
and although that person isn’t speaking
I’m witnessing something like precursors
to that person’s eruption of laughter.

She says, “You’re lucky there’s no volcano
because if you tossed your junk into it
it would erupt and kill everybody
for miles around and you’d be remembered
by those who survived the catastrophe
as the guy who caused it by insulting
the spirits of the Earth with your rubbish.”

It would be something like a pilgrimage.

It would be something like an offering.

And it would be something like religious.

But all religions have their heretics.

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