The evolutionary tree split
at the intersection
of what is
& what if.
That’s where we got lost;
that’s where they took a hike.
In the smudge of a serif,
humans were off.
That’s how a limb
loped on and up,
sticking its head
between the clouds,
where cities gleam
and giants growl.
Sacrificing an impulse
to devour and fuck
for a Reveille call
of more sacrifice.
Until—
Civilization
But then—
A crack
And now—
Clouds pissing carbon
on the rest of
the schmucks,
and if it’s not dark yet,
Cassandra's warming Taps.
So—
I mean—
Are we just—
Atlas shrugs;
they look away?
When, exactly,
will what is
become what is not
and never will be again?
Can we naturally select
for some sanity here?
Or are we doomed
to fall
on our bottom line--
cartoon apes
with spinning legs
as the snap of the trunk
ricochets--
blinking at so much earth
rushing up,
still having the gall to ask,
My God, My God:
Why hast thou forsaken us?
10 comments:
we'd have to artificially select for sanity, I fear, and no one is sane enough to go for that.
Very thought provoking piece.
The intersection of "what is" and "what if" is a powerful theme. I like the way this poem feels like reined spontaneity.
Yes, we got lost in "civilization" and I do think we are doomed. At this point, I care only about Earth as a whole and not too much about the "human" beings.
Your poem shows in fantastic images our split from Nature... Too bad no one ever listens to Cassandra...
xoxoxo
Charles, the machine has too many moving parts. And too much drag.
Steve, I like that: "reined spontaneity." Me in a nutshell. Smanks.
Vesper, hey there, you! I know what we can do. Have a big ol' blogging reunion before the Earth is scorched entirely. I miss the old days...
All I got fer you is -
"The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and go. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow."
But then again, no wheel turns forever.
Whenever I see shittiness happening around me, I just try and console myself by thinking - "It must be a fixed point in time". It helps. You should try it.
With Vesper back in business. Karen still kicking ass. Ello still in business. Steve still doing wonders.
Jenny still sipping Chai. What's stopping a blogger reunion?!
I say let's declare Blog reunion month. One month we keep track of each other's blogs, and post atleast once a week. Send a raven to everyone!
I was thinking yesterday that maybe blogging isn't as dead as we think. It's certainly less intense than it once was, but maybe just sitting around bemoaning the lack of a golden age is what others are doing, too, and that if we were to actually, I don't know--blog and comment, say--then maybe we could get something like a community going again.
I'm game if you're game. Will visit some folks tomorrow. Karen first. Why the fuck haven't I been visiting Karen anymore??
Let's do this, Jon Snow.
Aye. I'm in.
I just dropped by at Karen's. We can be the blog-mob!
Comment-mobbing their blogs.
I've hopped around so many places, I'm sure know one knows where I write anymore.
Let's do this thing Heena.
It is done.
We're getting the band back together. Someone tell Parrish he needs to resurrect his blog. Someone tell K she is missed. Someone tell Joaquin enough is enough.
You know, I could make a poem from this.
That's not a half bad idea, Jim.
Write a poem over it, and we'll tag everyone in. Heena's 11 unite! (Are we more than 11? One problem at a time. Baby steps.)
We are legion.
I made some rounds. Now I'm going to resurrect my old camera, grab my notebook, and do like the olden days: get inspired.
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