Joshua Keiter

The illusion of early morning 
awake providing more 
hours to achieve projects 
put off until so called free 
time dispelled by late 
afternoon lethargy after 
wrangling stale grout from tile 
reminding you nothing 
is ever finished which is why 
the previous owner left things 
in such a disarrayed state

Walking into the house 
for the first time in months 
greeted by unmasked hugs 
holding the grizzled dachshund faces 
who know my hands and eyes so well 
there to dine and collect 
selections of a not quite derelict collection 
dust a signifier of nearly a decade 
spent almost perhaps in place 
for eyes and ears to reacquaint with 
in an almost new location 
echo of life in another state 
unsurprised by ghosts still hanging out there 
where I left them trembling uncomposed 
but then I carry them with me everywhere 
the frame could not hold them 
my heart unboxed still does

It goes without saying 
so much has not be said 

to oneself or in company 
days and nights of muteness 

unfathomable before 
so much pervasive silence 

the only music is machines 
keeping heartbeats alive 

separate from the stages those 
who ascend are meant for 

what will greet us upon return 
but ghost light prominences 

the memory of all those silences 
becoming ever slightly yet

so desperately loud

Just remember 
when they read the verdict 
you would not have 

been surprised 
had they read the reverse 
and all the coverage 

of the anticipation 
prevented you from hearing 
they were at it again 

while the crowds gathered 
calling you can go home 
now please leave us be 

please leave us be 
please let us grow old 

This stuff just never ends

We watched a documentary 
about how nature thrived during 
this year humans retreated 

all it took was us staying inside 
our homes a bit longer 
than we usually do

now I’m worried a year from now 
we’ll see nature retreat once 
again recoiling at the sight 

of us killing ourselves 
and all the things we couldn’t 
wait to get back to doing

Pattern of weather 
as good a metaphor as any 
for the year this far 

a new beginning 
thwarted by unmasked marauders 
storming every edifice 

the way the sun makes 
its triumphant appearance 
only to give way 

to the clouds that were 
always less than a zip code away 
providing non-torrential droplets 

that gather in stagnant water 
waiting to be overrun by green

No one uses their turn 
signals around here 
often the lanes get lost 

in merge only liminality 
without warning suddenly 
you are in the wrong 

space while those seeking 
to pass do so on the right 
with little regard for 

any distance that should be 
kept for the sake of safety 
far too many lanes and none 

of them are open everything 
under construction which 
only makes things worse 

so they do it again meanwhile 
across other lanes and red lines 
no constructive accidental 

misplacement of obviously 
different tools of oppression 
justifies the means that lead 

to a dead end the failed state 
is within us idling at a traffic 
light that never stops being red 

so tired of waking up to dead

Interrupting the daily 
prevailing sense of deja vu 

because this sort of thing 
really happens every day here 

the thought that the memories 
you haven’t thought about 

in how many cycles but 
remain as dusty clear as 

the wood paneling cinder block 
linoleum of the tv room floor 

the tangible apparent 1987ness 
of 1987 or any vicinity year 

flowed through the so called 
order of the universe at 

the same rate as this day 
this week month or decade 

the accumulation of same 
is what makes it speed 

so they say when there are 
fewer data points nothing 

to compare the singular to 
how faultless this regularity 

how much longer in the mind 
it flows out infinite distance 

how precious this second

Listening to that album 
from maybe twelve years ago 

makes me think 
now I can be nostalgic 

for twelve years ago 
about the time when

I decided everything in the past 
up to that point 

was all there was to be 
nostalgic about and even 

then I put little effort 
into making new stale memories 

hoping never to have 
to look back

today I turned up the volume 
in the car to make 

the traffic more tolerable