Monday Poem


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new year, end day of a beginning,
two limits of an endless rope,
sunup/sundown, the day we split infinity
that lazy 8 napping on its side as time goes by,
the day we draw a deep breath
in belief that its undulant line may really be broken
regardless of the will of a universe to ever be
unsplittable in the extent of its being,
as if a year arbitrarily set to solar cycles
marks anything but a wish to apply human order
to a thing as opaque but terse as a snake biting its tail,
yet it can be done, and is
in love    by love

Jim Culleny