Blog Archives

Annum

Ding dong it is midnight.

The wicked witch will remain.

She will be marked in daily blocks,

As we leaf page-by-page,

Through hardware-store calendar.

Her evil spell will be felt,

Throughout the coming dozen,

The 52 repeated stretches,

From Sunday through Saturday.

A toxic brew which she conjured,

Especially for our benefit,

A blanketing pox under which we live,

Will cover the days we inhabit,

An inescapable, personal burden.

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