The Thingliness of Things

I lie in wait for what the morning brings

To trap it in this net of words.

However plaintively it sings,

No matter that it gasps for breath,

Attempting to insist: “I seem! I seem!”

In just a while, it will have been

And fade into the mis-en-scène,

Forgot, its music not now, then.

There is a thingliness in things,

A bookliness in books;

A phoniness in phones.

A deathliness in death?

That must inspire the beating wings.

See what I mean?

It is possible to love God

Because we don’t share a bathroom—

Except in a figurative sense—

Endure “Her” or “His” domestic fits,

“Their” snide remarks, what “They” resents.

It's otiose to call it quits!

Sunday, August 30, 2026