Flashes
Childhood comes in flashes, but
this one is distinct:
Pale Green Twilight
You're crouched
The rabbit
I adjust my foot
I ruin the moment
It flees
Just like I do
this one is distinct:
Pale Green Twilight
Salt-sandy air
Behind
The buildings
From 1587
You're crouched
in the grass
Palms outstreched
all the love in your heart
The rabbit
creeps closer
Nearly nuzzles
your fingers
I adjust my foot
I ruin the moment
It flees
Just like I do
when I see palms outstreched
and love in their hearts.
This Time
This time
When the birds
go quiet
it won't be
DDT
This time
When the bugs
stop chirping
it won't be
the cold
The ones we lose
will not return
but
Replace
Replace
Replace
Savor the sweet
Saccharine scent of
Soil synthesizing
Seeds start best in their Mother's resting place
When Rot comes for us,
What will we return?
Will we be cremated?
Leave nothing but ash
Nutrients fed to the flame?
Will formaldehyde flush
our flesh from bone
Preserving our likeness a few moments longer?
Will we epoxy our faces
Break the rot cycle
so all will know who killed us (us)?
This time
When America
Stops Singing
It Won't Be
From Outside
This time
When America
Stops Breathing
Let her Rot
Become New
The End is an Act of Creation, too