October 9, 2020:

A text by Spinoza
poems by Brecht
forty volumes of advice for managers
my battered MacBook with the S key missing.

Fortress walls
piled high against intruders.
If I slump a bit
I can't see the world.

Flotsam of fallen bricks and pieces,
detritus of a stronghold shattered by time
or futility
or the symphony of inharmonious voices in my head.

I should light a fire.
I should light it all on fire.
What has any of this to do with me?