Friday, August 26, 2022


Our days are infused 
with so much 
that's righteous

it'd ruin our ability 
to continue 
if we noticed. 

Doesn't matter 
who you've hurt

or how 
many times now—

morning birds will 
sing to you;

when you're driving 
through the night 
to escape from the truth, 

the impossible soup 
of atoms in the air 

will part 
to let you through 
and salute; 

and just when you think 
you are finally living 

on the last line 
of a prayer 
at the tail-end of time, 

tomorrow arrives 
without help, 
on a dime—

and there's nothing 
you can do.