The sick Earth
by your hands and mine
failure of our designs

Change the type of car you'll drive
ignore what you can't see
all you're changing is
the economy

Oceans filled with an infinity of junk
Skies opaque with progress
With any luck
Species will remain to be seen

They dipped my bones in patience  and lathered my skin with strength as God said "She's gunna need it".
I was made for you.

I'm easy-
I'm as predictable as a bud
about to bloom before
the summer sun strikes her
heavy blow and smokes
the flowers with a

deep inhale, a canon.

When I come up and
I go down
so quickly, I know that
I'm easy
and I know that I
must be a fool

a coward,
conversed in the pull back
the push ahead of
a tide I'm
cultivated in
conceding when
my toes can't touch the
ground and I'm feeling
my familiar fear

I
know
   that
      I'm
         a
      fool

and I'm telling you that
                              there's a war,

there are wars,
there are THESE wars:

where I'm the soldier
I'm the commander,
I'm the nurse,
and I'm the civilian,
the gun and
the sword:

I lie like a flower
in the trenches of
civil war.

I must've heard the phrase
hundreds of times by now.
"My life's going to hell
in a handbasket."
Or some such variance.
Only recently have I become able
to tell you what that actually looks like.
See
you start with a cute wicker basket.
The kind grandma might give you muffins in.
Then you place all the things you've managed to hold onto
inside of it.
Your friends, your family, your job.
Next goes in all those possessions you hold dear.
Your car, your house, your dog.
Lastly
in go the intangibles.
Your hope.
Your dreams.
All your positive feelings.
Then you set the ******* on fire
and watch it all burn away.

We can manage a dull afternoon
When punished lilies
Imitate the army of rebel waters
Sneaking away on tiptoe
From an empire of lawful soil

Watchful of flood signals
We will wait for a jealous wasp
To peel back the detonators
For springboard demolitions
Fancied on limp petals

While soldiers of nectar’s plight
Talk over plans with bees
We see an enemy of discreet magnitude
Inside us, a showering of infernal degrees
Our hearts soaked in criminal teas