from an untitled serial poem (3)

and nothing specific is ever learned

it’s more a pervasive atmosphere

an inescapable context which traps

us in a web woven and rewoven

moment by moment knitted from our flesh

and residue left from this dark frenzy

*

daily we fall deeper into the tale

yet there is no white rabbit to follow

only desire to ride us like harpies

the news the neighbors our friends all screaming

into a discontent none can escape

nor explain enough to be forgiven

*

as if there could be a strong enough god

to save us from our own stupidity

(January 5, 2020)