4.xii.22
1066
3.337
adjusting
the kit calendar
for days
lost because I cannot count
it’s not that any one day was vanished
but in the manner of the ancients
when they forgot a moon
because the suns are simply too much
like not knowing head from the tail of the poem
it’s not that any one day was missed
but the numbers just aren’t right
leaving us with days of volcanic dark
that would amount to a week’s holiday
somewhere for someone
not naming names
once they had a whole year off like this
everyone starved
of course I could have skipped the adjustment
simply gone off into my own season
imagine the unscheduled poem
spontaneous human combustion, all that
no dateline, no ribbon
still time to set things to rights
plenty up my sleeve
plenty still in the tank
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