On His Reluctance to Take down the Christmas Ornaments

A nice, normal morning:
feet setting out as though in a trance,
doubling the yesterdays, a doubled man
under the stairs, and strange surrealist fish
from so much disappearance, damaged in the mail.

Or the spry cutting edge of another day.
Here, we have these in
sizes and colors –
day goes fluttering by.

Like ivy behind a chimney
it grows and grows in ropes.
Mouse teams unslay it,
yeomen can’t hear yet.

A shadow purling,
up into the sky.
Silence in the vandalized vomitorium.

It’s great that you can be here too.
Passivity rests its case.