This is a picture of a shower curtain.
With a Toucan on it.
And a poem about things falling apart.
someone somewhere found us living in the shallows
flinging ourselves into deep wells and drinking that darkness
like spring water - we make circle around heat
call up whatever strength we have in numbers
and prostrate before the split cow's stomach steam
raised hands in fingerless gloves grasp the captured sun
the center cannot hold
they said this as if it wouldn't unhinge the universe
as if gravity would keep on keeping on
with everyone occupied with dismantling history
who kept the gears oiled and working
Joan Didion has released her history
whatever is good for Didion must be good for us
we hover over the corpse of what cannot be held
in the sky above the moon is a sack of fat held fast
that cup of darkness - the ground is a good place for it
soak up the warmth of a sun that shone years ago
take that with you to wherever you are tomorrow