I am the seawall

against the

rising tide of chaos.

I have weakened

over the years; cracks in my


allow ingress to the pressing

flood, a trickle at a time.

Things pile on the dining

room table, the living room table,

the chairs.

There is a permanent installation

on the kitchen table…

It is not art.


Occasionally I rally,

reinforce the bulwarks

with sandbags of organizational

tools – containers, shoe trees,

bookcases, file cabinets.

Then they too become

One with the clutter.


You cannot fight the sea – you

can only delay its

takeover by running

for higher ground.

Eventually, it will surround you;

you will drown and

be past caring.



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