the true bliss of objects is entropy

by David Ackley


What the crystal tumbler meant,

leaping to shatter on tiles

was pure intent.


Things bide their moment,

advantaged by your decline,

knowing, malevolent.

Wrenched from

stillness, to the flame

and pincer of our casual use,

pots, pans,  dishes, spoons,

elope to rot and rust, shattering

of forms, the old useless bliss,

and decay back to life.