Saints And Confusion (Rev.)

Confused people should not use too many drawers;
six are already too many for me, rummaging loudly
to find lost items, irritating my open-plan colleagues,
I can’t even take care of too many pieces of clothing,
my cupboard is an indescribably inaccessible mess
as I add more pants & favourite fleecy pyjamas in a
back-up contingency

Every new cover-sheet entering my work station is
carefully placed under my assortments of hats, but
when looking for it, it’s lost in a carefully concealed
clutter under purple & white scarves; writing in my
poem-diary means there’s no way to keep track of
title and date except by posting directly to the Web
in a blogsite which demands such data

And PoemHunter insists on a subject classification
when most are about feelings, music & philosophy -
without help assorted papers would have floated off
as study assignments once did, the lecturer caught
these falling sheets - securing them with a pin - it’s
then self-evident why an infinite number of angels
danced on the pin’s head

And the lecturer instantly turned into a saint