Finding a million
Bucks in your pants each day for
The rest of your life

Being wrapped in warm
Blankets that sing lovingly
As they ******* you

Riding a white bear
Through outer space watching Cuse
Win the title, live.

You are a cog in a great machine,
Free to do whatever you please,
Just so long as you keep spinning.

From an airplane
The clouds
Are a soft
Blanket,
Tucked up
Over the Earth's crust -
Keeping it  cozy
and warm -
Even in winter.

From an airplane
The rainbow sheen
On the sea
Is a patch
On the ocean's
Dark Wal-Mart jeans -
Bringing life
To what's otherwise
Uninteresting.

From an airplane
The cities
(quotidianly)
Are just toys
Left by children on
Christmas morning
That could not
Compete with
The Next Greatest Thing.

Back on Earth
I'm a speck
On a sad rock
In a terminal sea
Under the
Never ending
White expanse
Of The Greenhouse -
Sweating,
In February.

In the time it took to read these lines
A million mayflies were born and died
In half a blink of the cosmic eye.

Cut the trees and drain the lakes,
Burn up everything we know
For iPads. That's what progress takes:
Cut the trees and drain the lakes
(Ignore the tempests and the quakes)
And as the garbage mountains grow
Cut the trees and drain the lakes,
Burn up everything we know.

Perhaps we ask the Earth too much.
Instead of giving it a crutch
We demand tee-vees and jets and such
Commodities from factories:
Big cars and tiger pelts to touch.

Perhaps our goals are just too great
To be fulfilled by the natural state.
We want wealth, food on our plates,
Cures to diseases we create.
We'll drown the world in all our waste.

What is a wall,
A building traced?
Or a public creative space?
To write on one
Is to deface?
Or should the practice
Be embraced?

I wrote my name
Upon the wall.
Selfish message
Seen by all.
I wrote it so
I won't be missed.
Lest any doubt
That I exist.