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.