I could care less,
I could,
but instead, I care
so much,
so phenomenally.
It happens
when we look, this
mountain
range-sized adoration
welling up
inside us in response
to all that
is present alongside
us, and all
that existed before
the human
thumb squeezed
the top of
the common era’s
stopwatch.
The seven holes in our
heads help
us to take in what we
can of the
ever-altering wilderness
here for us,
with us. How is this not
collaboration.
"I Could Care Less" by Hannah Stephenson, from In the Kettle, the Shriek. © Gold Wake Press, 2013.Art credit: I have thus far been unable to locate the title of this bronze sculpture by Richard MacDonald, who seems to title all his works. The photograph, dated August 18, 2011, is by Marta. A quote of MacDonald on the wall above the sculpture in this installation at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas reads, "Art transcends all human boundaries. It is a gift of almost inexplicable, magical energy. When our hearts, through our senses, are touched by art, our lives are enhanced."
"How is this not collaboration"--wonderful line. As is the image of the human thumb on the stopwatch of the common era, in a poem that matches me think of how we're sprinting through altering and wrecking the wilderness around us.
ReplyDeleteA special thank you for doing this with a grammar lesson on a commonly misused phrase. When people say they could care less I always think Yes, yes you could. So you must care at least a little.