t all part of the game. Situation normal, all fucked up — whoever came up with that — “snafu” — a f*****g genius! And now we face the rise of a demented, damaged dolt who has somehow managed to gather a cult of mesmerized mothers against drunken driving to ride off the cliff with him. So, yes, there’s some cleanup to do. It isn’t normal, and yet it is, this snafu we find ourselves in. We are the authors of this book we’re reading, this game we’re playing. The chaos to come is real, but we have made it. Our work begins with the sunrise. The cleanup of the moment is already happening. We have our work cut out for us to reclaim the democracy of the ever-changing sky.

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Our work has only just begun. The chaos to come is real and yet all part of the game. Situation normal, all fucked up — whoever came up with that — “snafu” — a f*****g genius! And now we face the rise of a demented, damaged dolt who has somehow managed to gather a cult of mesmerized mothers against drunken driving to ride off the cliff with him. So, yes, there’s some cleanup to do. It isn’t normal, and yet it is, this snafu we find ourselves in. We are the authors of this book we’re reading, this game we’re playing. The chaos to come is real, but we have made it. Our work begins with the sunrise. The cleanup of the moment is already happening. We have our work cut out for us to reclaim the democracy of the ever-changing sky.

Potter Poems is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.