when I act on the stage, become one of the crowd;
pernicious small corners at edges of vision
ignored by my grins are completing their mission.
Then finally, down comes the curtain and I
take my bows and move gratefully back toward my sky,
where memories and smiles are my chief occupation.
I newly have time for a deep rumination.
I look at my corners - Oh Mother in heaven!
The piles have grown monstrous, stacked sixes and sevens.
Towering, threatening into the space
where I grow my true soul and make up my face.
Mailings and catalogs, photos and filings;
life's frantic details, piers without pilings.
All must be sorted; signed sealed delivered
to trash can or cabinet, sliced diced or slivered.
Clean out those corners! and don't be too slow -
it soon will be time for another new show;
again raise the curtain to focus elsewhere,
abandon all hope, and forget what was there.
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