As a child, I had an obsession 
with threes. My mother's name
was Trinidad; nod to Holy Trinity

There is more, of course (work,
dishes, exclamation points, wrong year) but
that is Friday, so far

The rest of the alotted time runs out
in a funk
I command no threes, 
         not even the mind, it seems
         and did not visit the tide

         I do not know what pieces of Japan
         have floated in,

or what fallen economy has managed
to crawl up on the sand

have not counted the giant squid
or dead godzillas washed ashore

no colloquia

I have the "intent on"
but no cigar


Random lines from my bookshelf:

Watching the tail end of a film running through the projector
Gate---blackness, random design, blackness, a few numbers,
Blackness a pattern blip blackness
                     L I G H T 

-- Philip Whalen, "The Talking Picture," in The Collected Poems of Philip Whalen