sean sextonnerve_bios_6.html



with certain regularity,

we get done what we ought.


(after three litters of multi-colored kittens),

we spay the cat,

repair the door,

change burnt-out bulbs,

divide the children’s room,

buy new tires for the car,

and somehow pay the bills,

keeping apace of our domesticity—

a step ahead of the banker,

a moment behind convention,

putting off heaven and hell

as long as possible.


Then one day

you put the tractor in gear,

rev the engine

and drive straight into the gate.

Watch the fury of splinters flying,

feel the latch and hinges breaking,

find yourself in a place

you’ve never been before—

the golden flesh of the wood,

and a little of your unfathomable will,

suddenly visible.