Wednesday, January 1, 2014


Despite prognostications that this day must dawn, who knows?
It's nice to see a new year coming that hasn't been sold
In advance as the next candidate for apocalypse.
I don't have to be more cheerful, but death is off the lips
And billboards that decorate midwinter darkness. How nice!
Something new for the Gregorian new year. Once or twice
Before I've felt the weird world this wide open, but never,

Nor now, because a general possibility-fever
Generated by some flower children, some fallen wall,
A tyranny relocated, an accomplishment tall
Enough to justify enjambment stretching across years.
There's nothing obviously significant, certain years,
And such nothings, all sweet nothings, deserve their perfect rhyme.
Oh, you know the word stealing through, stealing true minds. It's time.

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