Let there be always one more
dust kitten under the sofa,
a few crumbs in the drawer,
a sock with no mate,
a little piece of garbage in the drain.
Once a year,
let there be
no more sugar, or postage stamps.
Now and then, let no one remember
where the hammer last was seen.

Let there be snow in April
and roses in October.
Let the field mice
stuff the air filters
and garden boots
with seed.

Let there be loose
names that don’t connect,
definitions that don’t work.
Let the data base be always shifting,
one address or zip code incorrect.
Let the check book sometimes
by a substantial sum.

And may there be
crossword puzzles in which
irremediable errors were made,
theorems and sudokus
pieces of God
that make no sense,
philosophies that fail
to account for one critical matter
(music, sunrise, death. . .).

May the physicists never find–
what is it called?–
that theory
that explains everything.

Let the right words slide
when the dreaming ends,
let some tunes be not quite hummable.
Let there be always
one song
that keeps

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