Thursday, January 20, 2022


Amazingly, somehow
a whole flock 
of comets—

or the ice and dust rings 
of some massive 

have crash-landed 
on the streets of Chicago.

Now, it seems 
everywhere I go, 

odd bits of gravel,
salt cinders, snow

have blotted every curb, 
sidewalk, underpass,
and gutter, 

hindering breathing 
and impeding travel.

Who could have guessed?
All this beyond-ancient
jetsam of space—

all of its ghostly, 
beguiling debris

(which I used to only
see on TV 

or splashed around 
in glossy
school textbook photographs),

when it's piled up
in front of me, doesn't seem 
so special.