Tuesday, October 19, 2021


Opportunity knocks,
but it's complexity 
who enters,

inertia who pins you 
when ambition 

In Yeats's day, 
things fell apart—

now, they just 
hang around 

dilating over time 
and merging 
with technology—installing 

automatic updates 
while you sleep 

with all the 
feigned ignorance 
of Judas's kiss. 


Personally, I think it's 
a bit of a 
no brainer; 

I don't dare 
disturb the universe 

because the future 
is determined.

But isn't it probable—
that what the world needs now 

isn't more love, 
but more 
built-in excuses,

a secret trap door 
in a metaphysical

a little more room 
just to jitter 
and wobble?