NOW HERE

NOW HERE

the new year whimpers,

as unready as Æthelred II,

unwilling to step

out of the time machine,

choosing instead, to

remain, comforted,

in the soundwaves of

another annum, unable

to expel itself from

our throats.

DER MANN WARD ZUM SIEB

Der Mann ward zum Sieb,

in the particular, leaf rattling,

autumnal chill, deceit settles

to the bare ground, waiting to be

stir-

red up by your comings and go-

ings, fine particles for you to

inhale and filter, becoming, at last,

the machine for forgetting that

god meant you to be—

less tender, as the waiting begins,

for the world to freeze.