Five Days with Kay Ryan: Day 3- That Will to Divest
That Will to Divest
Action creates
a taste
for itself.
Meaning: once
you’ve swept
the shelves
of spoons
and plates
you kept
for guests,
it gets harder
not to also
simplify the larder,
not to dismiss
rooms, not to divest yourself
of all the chairs
but one, not
to test what
singleness can bear,
once you’ve begun.
—
This poem doesn’t have the same density sonic singularity of many of Ryan’s other poems, but the theme is very easy to grasp, and very easy to empathize with. I, at least, take a long time to get cleaning and ‘thinning’ out my stash of crap, but when it gets started, minimalism sometimes shimmers off the seas of horded booty like old copies of Esquire or workshopped drafts of old poems. What would it be like to just rid yourself of the junk that you really don’t need? DVDs and silverware. The toaster and the fifth beach towel. How cool would it be to be able to flit around without that shackle of stuff. But, then I normally realize how awesome my stuff is. How great it is to fall asleep to MST3K yet again, or to be able to take digital photos (and don’t even think about taking photoshop from me). Ahhh… a romantic theme in a way. So, not as intense sonics, but very cool idea, right?