Tonight's Poet Corner: 20??
20?? by Belinda Roddie blissfully unaware of the passage of time, the New Year slept in, and every clock was wrong, its hands splayed helplessly in front of each cracked face. it could have been 2020. it could have been 2019. 2021, 2031, 2342. could have been 1842 again, for all we knew, if we had focused on another historical figure's birthday instead of Jesus's. regardless, it had an effect on us. we forgot how old we were, how long it had been since we had met, and when our next meeting would take place. so I crept by your house at a quarter past whatever with a carton of egg nog and a bottle of brandy because fuck the fact that Christmas was over. It may as well have been Christmas again, given the shredding of the calendar and the comatose state of our arbitrary calculations of the planet's revolution. may as well toast to a personal, useless revolution of our own - to ignore the countdown entirel