Day After Election Day

 

Here are we again.

We think we’re fine.

The one we hoped
would win has won.

Of course Existence

still besets us with

impossibility, delivers
kicks to our behind.

The universe is still
a smoking gun,

pursuing its peculiar fun.
But we don’t mind.

The one we hoped

would win has won.











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Assemble Your Triumvirate

 

 

Assemble your triumvirate --

those other two, and you --
to take a moment to decide,
perhaps, on what to do.

But if you find you disagree

about means and their ends,
let it suffice to know you've nice
imaginary friends.












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Remember and Release and Reconnoiter

 

Gentle tensions soon obtain

when strange November takes the rein --
exerts its obfuscating change
on soul and weather -- tethering
the temperature to intimations of an end --

as if it's true (it may be, too)

that everything is growing old
as well as cold. It's nice then, when
November shadows loiter, to remember
and release and reconnoiter -- with a friend.











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Bring It On, Babies

 

Yesses, no's, maybe's --

all of 'em hit the spot.

Bring it on, babies.

Ready for what you got.

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Unassailable Logic

 

One would have done what one had had to do

if one had thought that one had had to do it.
But how could one have done what one had
had to do unless one knew it?

That one had therefore had to misconstrue
what one had had to do is hardly something
to review anew -- as if some apercu thereto
might then ensue sufficient to pursue it.

So screw it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Let the Bats in Belfries Sing!

 

Today we've found the agency!

The catalyst!
The poltergeisty twist!
The vagrancy

residing in the heart
which counts for everything!
Let the bats in belfries sing!
Consciousness is more than part

of what permits the pearled blue sea

to swoon with you --
to spoon with you.
It's what allows the world to be.











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Those Archetypes

 

 

Those archetypes arrive again -

ambiguous, this time.
In fact you can't remember when
they took so long to climb

back into their mythology.
They seem a bit at sea.
Once ruled by their biology
which set them on a spree

of wild and unexamined lust --
inveterately hot
to trot -- now they've begun to rust.
You're ready, but they're not.











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