Dear friends, colleagues, relatives, & heroes —
I wish you all health, happiness, comfort, good reading, and the things you wish for in 2013.
Here’s my poem for this year.
All best to you,
Cobourg, Ontario, Canada
POEM FOR TUESDAY (January 1, 2013)
It is 2013. We are returning to old values.
It is 2013. Cats are taped carefully to their dogs.
It is 2013. Clothes are self-cleaning, like dishes and ears.
It is 2013. There is a white man in the Black House.
It is 2013. Commander Snout has arrived to offer us the option of a second nose on our face or in a convenient nose purse.
It is 2013. The clouds are shaped like apologetic codfish.
It is 2013. When I try to shave, the mirror plays games with my face.
It is 2013. This has never happened before.
It is 2013. The prime minister is a sociopath flapping his arms in a vat of blood pudding.
It is 2013. Facts have been replaced by fast food.
It is 2013. A woman awakes to find her son climbing a birch tree outside the living room window, then getting unsteadily to his feet on a precarious branch and holding up a sign that says: “I want to be an appliance like my father before me.”
It is 2013. You hang like a brilliant moon over a field of grateful cartographers.
It is 2013. The weather has made poetry unnecessary.