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All of what happens goes on mostly not mattering.
From yonder I hear a holler and neither startle nor collapse.
The contraptions designed to stall if not stop time finally fail.
Given the many absences in our wake death makes plagiarists of us all.
Remember when we stood in swiftly rusting dusk before the bare fact of the famous empiricist's grave?
Where we wanted a certain glittering future instead there now lies along the horizon a thin and barely visible shim.
How weirdly eerie and suddenly other seem those things most familiar.
My name is Aaron Anstett and I fully understand the seriousness of the statements made in this declaration.

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Copyright © 2020 Aaron Anstett All rights reserved
from Poetry Northwest
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission