found poem: this weird

found poem © j.i. kleinberg

found poem: our time

found poem © j.i. kleinberg

found poem: I was alone

found poem © j.i. kleinberg

found poem: Objects

found poem © j.i. kleinberg

found poem: ready

found poem © j.i. kleinberg
published in The Journal of Radical Wonder

house…

There was one house on our block that was perpetually broken. Something had probably been done wrong in the construction, but the house looked normal and so one family after another moved in and undertook major repairs until they couldn’t stand it any longer and moved out.

The house, at one point, began to slip down the hill, foundation and all. Or the basement flooded. Or the driveway split. The small brick wall that contained the front yard one day left its job and fell over onto the sidewalk. Equipment would arrive, holes would appear — in the lawn or the roof or the foundation — and hammering was a constant. Hoses sprang from the house’s orifices and draped across the yard into the street to drain its watery innards.

But life went on, various families of three or four children tossing their bicycles and roller skates and skateboards and surfboards into the open garage where there was never enough space for a car. The eucalyptus trees grew tall and dropped their leaves and seedpods and messy flakes of bark around the back door. Dogs came and went.

Maybe the house should have been torn down, excised like a bad tooth. But it was attractive and comfortable, except for its aches and pains, and it always seemed that the next little repair would fix it once and for all.

I’ve known cars like that. And people.

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eucalyptus photo by Barbara Aldiss on flickr