Tag Archives: poem about desire

#133: Stupid Desire


It makes me angry:
I can’t stop thinking
about things I want.
I want a new roof, new gutters,
and the house painted.
I want to remodel the basement.
I want to refurbish the garage
and replace the kitchen cabinetry.
I want outdoor furniture for the back yard.
I want an Airstream, again.
And because I’ll need something to pull it,
I want a truck. I want a tiny house.
I want a 20 inch bass drum.
I want a stand-up desk.
I want a new turntable.
I even want things for other people.
I want René to have a new keyboard.
Hers is stupid, heavy, and old.
I want to be a better father.
I want to achieve enlightenment.
I want to read every book in the house
and I want to finish a draft
of the new novel.
There are things I want that I can’t mention.
I won’t mention those.
I want at once everything I desire
and nothing I desire. I want very much
to desire nothing, to have no desire
except for those desires that
are noble and good.
Very few of my desires
are either noble or good
except the ones that are most
difficult or next to impossible–
like achieving Buddha-hood
or reading everything in sight;
those desires that cost nothing
save commitment–those are the
real fuckers, and the ones I really need, and
therefore, for the time being, unattainable .


Filed under Poetry, Self Reflection