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.

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.

Out on the frozen Charles,
alone but for the creak
of the ice beneath,
and the singing of the winter wind,
and the glitt'ring of the city lights,
more num'rous than the stars at night,
life wells up inside of me.
I am a river that's in flood;
balloon at full capacity.
The universe runs through my blood.
At times like this
I know why.
I know why
I am alive.

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.

I can’t wait till class is over
And my homework is all done.
I can’t wait until my eyes are
No more bothered by the sun.
I can’t wait ‘till it’s the weekend
Oh I’ll push things to the brink,
And if I remember what I’ve done,
Well that’s a waste I think.

I can’t wait until I graduate
So I can get a job,
Waste away my nine-to-fives
And start livin’ like a slob.
I can’t wait till I get married
So that I can hate my wife
And drink away my sorrows
For the rest of my dull life.

Oh boy! Let’s have some children
(I hope that they’ll look up to me)!
I’ll let them gorge on fast-food dinners
While staring blankly at the screen.
So then they turn to teenagers
And we fight all **** day.
They tell me they don’t love me,
Couldn’t care less what I say.

I can’t wait till I get older –
Then I’ll have my fun!
I’ll eat and sleep and **** myself
Like life’s a game I’ve won.
And when I’m on my deathbed
I’ll smile (if I can),
I won’t regret a single thing:
A proud American.

I could read or write by golden light
As it sifts between the leaves;

I could stand atop a mountain high
To taste and smell the breeze;

I could be Thoreau and know what’s life,
Instead I watch TV.

I am certain sans the slightest doubt
There’s something very wrong with me.

We'll all be dead in a million years,
Perhaps much sooner than that.
The way we go about our lives
Is conducive to that track.
If we don't end all existence in
A blazing nuclear war,
We'll poison this sphere (that much is clear)
With smoke and sludge and tar.
But here in my tree,
Surrounded by leaves
And the golden, sparkling light,
The bombs and the haze
Seem so far away.
Perhaps we'll be all right.

Osmose with me
Into perfect symmetry.
Our membranes transfer me to you
An you to me; its chemistry.
And when in your proximity
Your energy sets mine in motion;
Moon's effect upon the ocean.
A privilege, surely, 'tis to feel
Not shared by stones or trees or seals.
Chimpanzees can't understand
but they come close.
A human thing it is to feel
And that is what I value most.

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

The Brain: In fact - Greater than god.
For - should the two compete -
The one makes all the other can
And more - much more - with ease

A light
A love
A lie

                         I laugh
                         I pant
                         I cry

                                             We spark
                                             We flare
                                             We die

Fisherman Floating on the sea all day:
For every one he catches,
There are ten that got away.
Why does he keep at it? Well, only he can say.

Dandelion pushing through a crack in the street:
The going’s a bit tough,
But that air tastes so sweet.
Makes it worth attempting the impossible feat.

Little fawn falling down on the forest floor:
Life’s no breeze,
But it means so much more.
A thought to keep you going when all your limbs are sore.

Fisherman bobbing on the waves at night:
The stars are in the ocean,
The moon is full and bright.
A price cannot be placed on such a wondrous sight.

Sardines:
Their daily lives are bland,
For they are canned.

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.

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.