Tuesday poem #179 : Mark Truscott : DUST

I know the familiar
indescribability of the
commonest surfaces.
Porous soil and dirt,
dusty light streaming
off painted wood and
plastic. The hand gets
closer than the mind.
The mind gets this, but
still it feels the need to
understand and trace
its understanding.
It wants to be in the world.
It wants to strike some
impossible balance.

Mark Truscott’s third poetry book, Branches, is forthcoming from BookThug. Nature (BookThug) came out in 2010 and Said Like Reeds or Things (Coach House) in 2004. Poems have recently been published or are forthcoming in The Walrus and Event, and on the Cultural Society website. Truscott lives in Toronto.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan