A NEW YEAR, 2008
—James Lee Jobe, Davis
Everything is the same, equal, in The Void,
the Giant Suck. There is no hallowed ground.
One revolution around the sun; we call that a year.
Who is to say where the beginning is, or the end?
At some point we started counting, some people
just need to count. It doesn't mean anything.
And now we start to count anew. We place
a new numeral at the end of the date. We celebrate.
Why not? Drink the wine. Make love.
Tomorrow we can double-check the digits.
Everything is the same, equal, in The Void,
the Giant Suck. There is no hallowed ground.
It is all hallowed ground.
_______________________
—Medusa
Send your poems and/or photos and artwork about openings to Medusa (kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) by midnight Weds. (Jan. 2—that's tomorrow!) and I'll send you a copy of Pat D'Alessandro's new SnakeRings SpiralChap, Metamorphic Intervals from the Insanity of Life, or any other Snake product of your choosing (see rattlesnakepress.com).
