Credo
Credo
I pick at the edges of things: scabs, fingernails,
ears-nose-eyes; peeling paint, poems, passages of Scripture. I’m not likely to
find my way into the middle of them – I don’t have a talent for it, I don’t
want to learn it. I don’t like middles
– the centers of rooms, of groups of people, of cities or towns. I confess I have no
interest in penetrating to The Heart of
the Matter or taking a journey into The
Heart of Darkness. There is for me something more interesting than Truth or
GOD: rain, for example, spattering the sidewalk; or the stuff that’s been accumulating in the junk
drawer of my dresser.
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