The angels are playing their instruments
as the ship goes down
lifeboats made of billboards float through
the riptide of endlessly mundane adventures
icebreaking the callous apathy
one of these days the sun will tire of
dancing with the moon in the celestial ballroom
and one will fall
down on one knee
whatever the opposite of a proposal is
we ride this rock but don’t listen
when they tell us to keep our arms and legs
inside the car during the duration
the young smolder until they are quenched
or suffocated
and we all worship the first tree to flower in the spring
the line between ADD and stopping to look at all of these miracles
is as blurry as **** on the tv
but feed us with pills, pop-psychology, and poetry
stenciled on the bottoms of bridges
by wandering beaten down heroes
of St. Paul, San Fran, Richmond
Planet Earth
the to-do list consists of
find some paper and a pen
and something to do
country folk with straw in their mouth
a good hard day’s work
But I just rolled out of bed
and the world is flirting with me too much today
to simply ignore it