pi & anne

it ends:
a circle is assigned
just one-dimensional
the timeless cackle
of feral geese

{Come back. We’re coming back.}
{We’re leaving. Moving on, again.}

every stage
it must be empty
so it can be everything
becoming nothing
as it always has been

torn to shreds
dismembered
yet this year
we know we’re all made of the same
it makes no sense

Three raspberries on toast. The lottery.
A vast array of checkout “blips”. The TV towers.
Absent laces. Failing coffee parties.
Hollow conferences. Perfectly made cartridges.
Green lemons. Scheduled flights.

And Faustus.

this mindless
spectre of
the zeitgeist
standing in its storm
not trembling, frozen

though the year ends
it goes on
we humans are such|