If you say you’re living a poet’s life

I sometimes wake in poem-time / a certain iamb of olive oil and eggs / and history
stretched nineteen inches of CNN / announcers like world criers chanting
insane mantras—destruction and desire and the fire of the human engine enduring.

Fresh-cut chives and ground pepper / comics / the obits in the morning paper /
Gordian politics supporting a sliver of wealth / arms reaching through coffee steam
into tai-chi moments / the fear of evo&devolution / a dancing asphalt pearl—

elocution Mrs. Manners of the failing sun and sea / oh let’s not touch the hem
of so much empty eternity. Poems come and go with each changing mood
of an autumn sky / poems come and go and never say, goodbye.