12: from the Palace of Justice:

 

Jury. Duty.

 

Consider the weirdo of Walden, Henry Thoreau,

writing a friend about the death of his brother—

an inexplicable death—

small cut on the finger—

hadn’t even hurt.

 

Perhaps (he wrote) we never assign

the sufficient cause for anything,

though it undoubtedly exists.

 

Which is why I hate jury duty.

And why I loathe civil cases,

teams formed to pair dollars

with consequence deliriously ungraspable—

For want of a nail, as the proverb goes, kingdom lost—

Some nail.

Because everything’s related, including me

including the adversaries

including you

including the dead brother who remains dead

and glittery causes swirl and eddy like galaxies barely fathomed.

 

 

 

(I think this is about 100, excluding the reps, but I got confused and gave up. )