A New Routine
I’ve been talking all day to strangers—
about health and money,
the nature of the naïve,
how derision and whiskey will
mold a man into a spy.
I read the fashion page.
They take the ledgers and
a long view …
In A Glacial Age
7am–
The sky is static white, icy as a pond.
Remote, an airliner slips the vista.
A slivered moon hangs late,
full, inglorious, methodical in
its striving after madness.
At year’s turning, winter’s creak
resonates along sidewalk lanes,
beech leaves
The Conditions of His Release
We speak softly of the dying,
forego our usual criticisms of
hard, dark laugh and perilous wit,
bad ties and tailgating.
Faces turned aside at
further news of his condition,
we mutter, “That’s not good.”
The lunch café is loud