This morning on my poetry blog, I posted the poem below:

Every. Thing.

Simple curved wood.
A few tacks.
Stain.
Shellac.

A place at the table
void of clutter.
A pair of pencils.

Enough.
No more.

In the next room a clock.
The pendulum swings silently.
Time is told.
No more.

Every.
thing.
tells you about
yourself,
about what is enough,
and if you poke at it,
why.

Simplicity and Minimalism are all the rage these days, but…

We are told how many books we should have, how to fold, what to cut out. The Ipod, that now nearly extinct music player that once dominated our life reduced a wall of audio equipment into a tiny little thing that fit in our pocket, with one of the great user interfaces of all time. In business circles, we are told to simplify, simplify, simplify, all while the world demands…