trash yesterday's newspaper
local tomorrow ought to turn more interesting
identify one's hold
won't burn memories, just leftovers
alone versus call endless call
rituals must reach space for everything's sake
shake the habit of imagining
continuous disassimilation
normal feelings are all there is
yet
dawning on an escapist will for paradise
on-earth heaven turning ice
we are forced to accept
the realism
of our vast individual responsibility
for creating still countless tomorrows
for us to feed upon