The Inexorable Sadness of Pencils

I've loved this poem for a long time, I think it's a break-up letter to Office Depot.

Dolor

Theodore Roethke

I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,
Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight,
All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage,
Desolation in immaculate public places,
Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,
The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,
Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,
Endless duplicaton of lives and objects.
And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,
Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,
Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,
Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,
Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate grey standard faces




One of my favorite parts about going back to school has always been the supply run: notebooks and loose-leaf paper, pencils both mechanical and traditional, colors of pens, binders and folders... It made me feel as though I had some kind of structure and organization instead of the actual random chaos that is going back to school.


But there is something about everything lined up just so, stuck in its perfect place, no alteration or chance able to alter the uniform steadfastness of its precise necessary order. I know that sadness, and it happens with word processors and Google Docs, too. Sometimes the only way to shake it off is to let a little insanity in. Two-minute dance party!