Filling January Belly incessantly with sprouts, I
waited on Being to return this nagging pressing.
Wisdom resolved its compact of dread, for example,
in mouthfuls of greenish verbiage, & the warp
of plastics, all fit to hand. To fill January Belly
up with timorous brocade, act the part while war
springs toward your region. So we are squat castles
between which, intervening, go wheels. So I've
arrested you with Love, which looks a lot like
Thinking. It isn’t. It is the least thoughtful & edible
of substances. Cities grow on stalks, did I know?
January Belly, unasked, stays empty as the species.