Lose the Threads

Do you like your world
In well-sewn clothes, cut
To fit to a t,

Well-made, of good cloth—
Fine silk, drape, tight weave—
A closed dress that breathes?

Or would it suit you
To have your world tossed
In some hand-me-downs,

Frayed sacks and loose shapes,
Not quite robes, not quite
Tents, cinched at the waist?

For the first, you’ll need
To count your gold, count
All things, use brass tacks,

Test thoughts, work in teams,
Dot and cut the lines
That split did and seemed.

But, if you give up
On your world, half-dressed
In wraps, sweats, and rags,

You’ll need to stay home
And hide or leave home
For good. You’ve got poems.