Recycling Requires a Cycle and We Melted the Axle

My not wanting to and/or inability to bother to write of late should disturb me more than it does. While I bitch about nobody recognizing my genius as theme one and have since day one that never stopped me before. I know my tick of explaining what I said after I just said it a fatal flaw, let me tell you in detail how and why. I read out loud every Rukeyser poem she wasn't reading herself from her birthday post three days ago, I still love the written word but fewer and fewer people writing them, me especially. The coming apocalypse already old news and I am going blind but can finally see all of red's spectrum so I take off my glasses and make things instead of writing, my daughter and son-in-law and wife get double-sided squares for giftmas I make on breaks at the Preservation Department's table on windowless Lau 3, you've glanced at and quickly skip passed them here and a few of you there. Did you know our children will die early and miserably for our sins? Of course you did, let me explain how and why

Olive has the largest vocabulary of any cat I've met
Once upon a time there was a legitimate anti-war wing of the Democratic Party
While I whittle on my cracker apocalypse anxieties reinforced daily by corporate propaganda the United States supporting a coup in Peru and escalating the war in Ukraine and preparing for war against China
Where do we touch down? on Latour's last two books
Confronting authoritarian neoliberalism
Freedom's just another word for a tweet you didn't send
The long shadow of The Managerial Revolution
FRESH HELL			BLEGGALGAZE!				(not mine!)
Conservatives explain how woke culture is destroying America
The long American counter-revolution
Working methods				Cat behaviors
The latest cycle in the MAGA aesthetics laundromat
Grid poems, not mine					Winter trees
A totally normal interview with novelist Emily St John Mandel
Shadows of an ideal				{ feuilleton }'s weekly
Grievers of climate change, anxiety of influencers
GASLIGHTING				These are all worth-reading, let me know if you hit a paywall, I can pdf you, laugh
Cormac McCarthy peers into the abyss

TOO HOT CAN'T STOP

Brenda Shaughnessy

1. Won’t Stop

What an unusual winter, to last till fall,
such a bad water this year, so full of elements
and hardly any specials.

I imagine the temperature had a hand in it,
this new kind of hot we’re having, like the clouds
pressed off on all the buttons

and seeped themselves away asocially.
Early retirement in dapplement—all the branches
signed off. Leaves left; they fell well before fall.

The changing of the seasons went viral
and now we have Sunter, Sprummer, Wing, and Wall.

2. Can’t Stop Too Hot

One foot in flip-flop, the other snow boot.
One hatchling learns to conserve energy (someone has to)
detaching its wings, hitching a ride

with a stressed-out vole. Flying’s not fuel-
efficient. A snake sheds its skin and crawls
into the shell with a turtle. They make room.

For my part, I imagine how a coyote re-eats its
plastic waste. This imagining requires no action,
which also, awfully, it’s true, saves energy.

Recycling requires a cycle and we melted
the axle, affixed the spindle. We stay still.
Hoping to grow some chlorophyll.

Soon everywhere will be too far to travel.
Too hot to go outside but in—in skin—
no place to breathe easy, either.