It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
—Jack Gilbert, Horses at Midnight Without a Moon
There is only one way in
and one way out.
In this urban supermarket—
above the wandering consumers—
a disembodied voice loops autonomous
zero zero zero
Rows and rows of cereal, pills, quick-prep meals,
personal hygiene products to mask odor and wetness,
chips (corn and potato), red meat, postmodern fatigue
Hollow charms bought with no obvious or imminent threat.
Once outside, a November sun draws a light bright—
enough to make us feel shapeless.
Human need spreads contagious.
We, a nation-state of hypoarousal.
Avarice and man slant disaffected.
Congregations of violence gather to worship.
Cache Culture 