January 1, 2026
A cold hawklike sky scans the labyrinth
At the top of my property. What gives?
The circles are meant to yield useful hints
About what it actually means to live.
But hasn't it been hundreds of years since
Padding around little pagan... ? Forgive,
But surely you've read last century's black prince?
The Psychopathy of Everyday Life?
The title's wrong. I simply can't convince
Myself to follow ideas that don't outlive
Their own time. OTOH hellish pits
Remain impressively generative,
Though for me make nothing happen... Look, it's
Silly, okay, to turn about the glyphs
Expecting to score existential hits -
Thoughts to be cherished like the thought of heaven
To quote Stevens. My paver walk permits
At best a chance to - with passion! - relive
The lives of people I've loved. At best it
Is a chance to toast my dead convives.