Saturday, January 1, 2022

New Year, New iPhone

Ambiguous light

This first of January

Mountain eye, absence

Of pervasive cloud

Claude outside hides behind plant

It fails to hide him

From Maeve, who growls, rain

Recommences nattering

On green and brown fronds

My unpoetic

Palm, neither metaphor nor

Face plant on this day

We devote to mean-

ing, action not result,

Always the same thing:

History’s erasure

Necessary, too simple

Not to run the wheel

Again: I love them

“To the moon and back” though no

Moon shows in portal

So I have faith in

Moon, memory reassures me

It’s there like the star

I can't imagine

In the space between the eyes

So I remember

Looking at the real

Sky, its pixel of light shifts

To the inner-verse

That counters facebook’s

Claim to multitudes of verse

Or algorithms

Where was the lyric

Crash when we needed it, mass

Media broken like

Instruments of Christ-

mas on tile floors slick as ice

Stark as burned grasslands

Our houses are grass

No flag of dispositions

Just American

Fascist pole dancers

Clank of rope against metal

Post, same word as post-

War, post-pandemic,

All the posts you shall salute

As flags come down, half-

Staff is par for course

When everyone’s sick, cannot

Fly the plane, drive car

Friend’s daughter attacked

In elevator by mask

Denying woman

Friend’s daughter wrestled

In high school, sex assumptions

Presage the coming

Uncivil conflict

I sit in my closed room while

Claude washes right paw

Outside the glass door

Nothing’s broken yet this day

Post-firework, post-tra-

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