Optimism on January 2nd.

 

Our first saline optimism heaves

forgetting the eyeless tomorrow,

as if all my friends humility powered hours

of inept meditation and cheering

updates, under aged: be ready! Say

their urgent blind appeals. Every friend

whose words face mauve manners,

they never shunned a summer, they never

fell back into the arms of shadows,

winter screeching its glazed

irony at a dartless dripping spring.

Be agile, and lock up your ambitions.

O eye words clamouring to respond

ground control to the calling rain,

be an umbrella, or better

be dry when the hurricane

loves you desperately: this

will be our year, possessed

delusions bowing to mouths

ears and weekends

until it’s over and then whose

then why then did I then forget

to be optimistic again.

 

 

 

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