Monday, December 5, 2022


When mornings 
start wavering 
out of existence, 

not yet gone, 
but long since 
in going, 

why do I
keep my mind fixed 
on their glimmering 

as a watch stopped dead 
at set 6am—contemptuous 
of noon? 

Would I starve in the wilderness  
to spare the strange, wonderful
plumage of its birds?  

Will I try to impose 
such a static thing as 

on the aggressive-
ly protean
soul of this world?