The Razor Beauty Of Things

Originally posted 12/26/2007. Formerly titled “Still”

I’m not sure how they happened
but there were times in my life
when everything 
and each of my moves was perfect, 
no wasted effort,
arms synched perfectly swinging 
as I turned toward the yard
away from the screen door closing behind me.
My vision sharpened at the edges
and deepened at the center of the field of view;
a jonquil stood out dead still from the lawn, its petals
cut into the green behind it.

There was a time I could stop the world
but I didn’t understand how useful that could be.
I have forgotten how. I have learned
how to think instead. 
Instead of
making the world stop
I stop myself and sit ass-heavy on the couch
thinking of 
good times.
Whenever I leave the house
I close the door behind me carefully now, never
letting it slam, making sure of the lock; I don’t know
how good times 
happen anymore
and I don’t want to scare them off.

I step out of the door
I don’t see much color

out there, which is fine;
I’m e
xcited now mostly by monochrome — 

marathon television viewing, the relief
when a cigarette is finished and I can breathe
something that’s not
grey fire in my throat, the relief of

the fire that lights the next one,
the ice cubes in 
the whisky,
the longing for a long dead sleep

because the only time the world stops now
is when I am not thinking of it,
when I cannot see it at all,

when the dark eats my dreams
and at last for a while at least
I’m not regretting 
the nagging poisonous hope
that one day I’ll remember the world,
recall how I used to see
the razor beauty of things 
growing without thought.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

2 responses to “The Razor Beauty Of Things

  • Eileen

    The razor beauty is the flip side of deep dark sorrow. I’ve numbed out a lot in the last few years, so not as open to the beauty. You can only handle so much of the dark of the world at any given time, without becoming paralyzed. I short measure my sorrow to stay functional for those I love, but that means I only get glimpses of the beauty.

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