This day is no special day This day will see no placards given This day will see no no dismembered limbs Yet there buzzes a distant chainsaw Whose sound comes in and out on the tinned wind This day is a slow gesture This day is just clearly not ready It hopes for a year of iron clarity But waits for the cues from the coming weeks And for moss and stares ....? ....? It's not clear how this day will end But I have put my money down On having a clear view from this house to the heavens And back again, it's not clear how this day will end Ahh! This day feels like a cold engine With a tank of old gasoline Live your own mornings on ether And tremble with anticipation as the sun goes down