today it seems is spoken out / brokenness a way
that seems to have no opposite

for after all what is Ohio / if not a flashing yellow light
rain for days on end

and birds that echo Nietzsche’s hermit / clutching little bits of grass
with their clutching little talons

perhaps they still believe / in apocalypse / still think
there is another yet to come

but the day it seems is spoken out / with its languid hands
and quavering regards

we all believe in providence when there’s money in the bank
but being has a way

of being opposite / the green sign that corroborates
the staggered line of trees

the being of today stretched back into a century of blame
and this new one is exhausted

by rain or record-setting heat and drought / or maybe from some ordinary cause
either way there’s little else to do

but to get into your car and drive / or if your congressperson
is intent upon apocalypse

then listen to the birds that still believe / and notice how their motion
takes them perilously out

stupefied across a yellow field