12 30 24 the future of poetry
Snakes in
the belly
with the world
as a grey mist
falling down in a fog
that obscures
sky,
sun,
and the gods
and from the car
parked next to me on this
cabling boat
there is much yammering,
goofy laughter,
and once again I am a grinch
about Christmas,
politics, war,
the future of poetry
and everything
else.