mother nature, with her office-walls of melting icebergs
and burnt amazonian boughs, will not negotiate on this:
eventually the eleventh hour will peek over the horizon
and streak the apocalypse across the sky. your ceo’s
checks cannot slow the cavalcade...
Like Heraclitus, the elderly clerk ran naked in the hills. He scrambled over boulders,
climbed up cliffs and through clefts, and knelt at the edge of a scarp. His eyes followed a hawk's
circling ascent into hot haze, and then its long drift down to the...