January First

The new is out there
but you wouldn’t know it.

A brumal morning walk
up Struggle mountain.

Bare trees, fallen leaves.

The mountain does not
notice our counting time.
It remains every day
witness to our triumphs
follies and fuck-ups.

It is not a mother or
or a cop, or a God
that intervenes.

Its constancy gives the lie
to our mindless change.

It doesn’t have to be.
It just is, watching in silence.

I stumble back to warmth
and the noisome world.

Struggle Mountain is
the symbol of my life.

Friends and lovers will
die; my memory will fade.

The mountain will last forever.

Let the struggle be my epithet.
Let he mountain be my tombstone.

I will never be alone.