The Box Menagerie
A feeling of comfort and quiet sustain most who enter to claim their
parcels. They know not why or how they are healed, yet they come daily.
A greater network operates invisible to these extraneous props.
Wandering through potentials of their histories leads back to the desk where I sit
and wait. Movements here are mirrored of celestial bodies and planetary cycles,
while the visitors emit tonal resonances akin to music of the cosmos.
Their planets of connection are cardboard carriers for what they already contain
within their inner being. The boxes merely allow the ritual of containment and
inventory to yield what cannot be contained or seen.
Confirmation comes in this myriad of dimensional weight, international ports
and transports, with the woes of inertia of frustration lost, by dreams to sustain
the speaker with presence of continuity through this blind pattern, acting it out
when it is already done- while time is the surface dictate: It was received;
It was sent out; It no longer is here.
For this desk covers four directions, while all permutations meet, while here
people repair, while using their shipments as impetus for cleansing what burden
no longer has weight, where they relive umpteen episodes, where they stand.
This stockroom Limbo world- a cycle without remembrance, except
as it occurs in all inventories of the box universe, of this medicinal conduit,
this MASH unit, this menagerie.
© 2008 Yvon Cormier/CT
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