Friday, November 17, 2006


Did you not know, when the hill
rolled up out of the fog like a monster ship
or was it an iceberg? anyway,
harbinger of disaster. Did you not know?
Did you not see the rivers streaming down her flanks
as she breached, jaws opening on the world—
cavernous throat lit by strange interior suns—
did you not see rough slouching?
Did you feel time unraveling underfoot,
clocks running backward, words following echoes,
work undone, pictures restored to virgin white?
Did you feel nothing?

Waken into a changed world. Set your clock
by the sun: climb the hill to watch for moonrise.
Learn to live on unsteady ground. See the fog
burning gold in the morning when you wake.

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