doubts creepin' in. the obamachron yesterday. 

 i'm tired and a little anxious but what's new you say i'm usually tired and varyingly situated on the anxious spectrum but i never had to do shots and boosters like this since i was an anxious divorced kid. when i got the last two it was in a big sports arena with lots of airspace and this time it's a funky little neighborhood club. it's not rational, but what is rational? we're not creatures of reason. we make stuff up and then play life like a game.

 there will be more new variants of audacious hope and change, of yes we can gangster capitalism. there will be new boosters, from here to the new horizon. 

the obamachron, 1-26-22.

oops, pardon me very much, here's your yesterday obamachron skywatcher picture today, thanks for your lovely attention to this burgeoning land theft, er, project, of audacious hope and change.

lines for winter, by mark strand

 

Tell yourself

as it gets cold and gray falls from the air

that you will go on

walking, hearing

the same tune no matter where

you find yourself—

inside the dome of dark

or under the cracking white

of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.

Tonight as it gets cold

tell yourself

what you know which is nothing

but the tune your bones play

as you keep going. And you will be able

for once to lie down under the small fire

of winter stars.

And if it happens that you cannot

go on or turn back

and you find yourself

where you will be at the end,

tell yourself

in that final flowing of cold through your limbs

that you love what you are.

a long time ago i sent some poems to a journal and they came back with an appreciative reference to mark strand. i'm thankful mark strand is mark strand and i can read him and not endeavor to write like him because he is like me.

 it looks like total control but it's total chaos. the obamachron.

i suppose there never was a singularity, 

but there was a likely unity, 

and there likely is, yet 

i feel the sorrowful separation 

and anxiety in the planet family.