It’s impossible
now to think about
the future. I think.
It seems that way.
Hard to be sure of
anything. What will
happen next? Can we
predict it? Same as it
ever was? No, always
something new, the
next thing, unexpected,
unforeseen circumstance,
and yet unavoidably
the way things are
right now, this moment.
Notes on Futurism in 2020
A poem I wrote in the midst of 2020 dread.