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Cataldo - Sinkhole
I’ve always felt that
life’s a sinkhole
swallowing each day
I get to give
But the older
I get the more it feels like
the American west
Something empty
and clean new as an egg
Now filled with
great mountainous things
that I’ve made
Like friends
I’ve let hang in the wind
I hear them rattle
on each other I wish
I had an older brother to intone
Some night music that gets
in my bo-bo-bo-bones
To remove every trace
of the places
I’ve kno-kno-kno-known
Some days
I feel like a
well-received tourist
Some days a guest
that just won’t leave
One day an acre of trees
Then a little wicker wreath
If you strobe in between
you see no change
But in an elemental
way they’re not the same
One could argue there’s
some growth in decay
But that’s a cruel way
to be kind a lever for
the weak of mind to tip big stones
into the vacuum of being
a-lo-lo-lo-lone
To warm up the hearth
of a place that’s
no ho-ho-ho-home
Oh what a load what heavy lifting
That light through cracks
from ground that’s shifting
You find yourself beneath
a bridge the rafters
above about to give
Someone whistling above
you and you know
the next pi-pi-pi-pitch
Think you better start
bracing from when
you’re not some new ki-ki-ki-kid
I’ve always felt
that life’s a sinkhole
swallowing each day
I get to give
But the older
I get the more it feels
like the America west
Something that’s
always clean no matter the age
Now filled with great
mountainous things
that I’ve yet to make
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