Glaciers like midnight sleep their way slowly through the valley of awakening—
unbeing ozone afternoons I threw all hope away—
flags in colors loud as the dictator’s bullhorn.
The future is hungry for what we are lacking it will never receive;
determined useful on the face of extra time I find still consuming me:
chrysanthemums and fireworks, soft collisions, the airport of butterflies.
Reduced to the tourism of my own life as an exotic hollow.
In the middle of things change takes me in another direction.
Enough blame to go around divides the guilt we can live with—
nobody knows who killed who killed who.
Now a new day is shining too bright to be healthy or real,
but it moves me like I’ve never been moved like this;
afraid how the fading emerges and fades and the emergent will fall
sick of the sarcasm criticizing the song,
hypersilent as millions watching around the world,
eyes wide as powerless eyes.
Oil rises again from unprecedented depths.
Now a new day is dawning, colder than a stomach full of wine.
Where are you taking me do I even need to know?