Monday Poem


new year, a day of ends and beginnings,
two extremes of a rope, sunup-sundown,
the moment we split our sign for infinity
(that lazy 8 napping on its side as life goes on),
the day we take a short breath
in belief that its undulant line
can really be cut and resumed
without upsetting the will of a universe
to be one, unsplittable in the extent of its being
as if a year arbitrarily set to solar cycles
marks anything but a hope to confer human order
on a thing as ineffable as a snake biting its tail,
yet it can be done   and is   in love   by love

Jim Culleny

Reading: JIm Culleny – Uroboros 2 – Clyp