burning rain forests
wild animals with shrinking space to live
growing air pollution
smog in major cities
more than 3,5 million deaths
     due to respiratory diseases
global warming
new insects and other beasties
    in the formerly cooler regions
extreme hurricanes  rainstorms  heatwaves
excessive use of fertilizers by agro-industries
bees are dying
blossoms are left unpollinated
biodiversity is in a flat spin
deserts keep growing globally
fossile fuels are still polluting the air
curious dolphins die in the water of the Thames

after so far hundreds of thousands died of Covid-19
it is high time to see the larger picture
to comprehend interactive phenomena

the pandemic brought earth a little recovery time
the waters have cleared
you can actually see fish in the canals of Venice
satellite pictures show clear air over metropolises

suggesting: the new normality after the pandemic
must be significantly different from the old one

do we really need hundreds of thousands to die?
does it need a virus for us to understand

that we need a different relationship to nature?!!

There she is:
naked and fickle on
the floor, *******
marrow out of
soup bones; her
*******
busy with
living things.

The muse plays
hide
and seek
like a spoiled
little child, as I s
sit with
sterile white
paper.
I think I see
her from the
corner
of my
eye, but when
I look,
she is gone, like
the last Dodo bird.
I yell, "Are you dead? "
NOTHING.
And then she
appears
dimly through
the glass and
gives
me a hard one,
fierce, right behind
the eyes,
in that still small
place where sullen
shadows
dance to Wagner, while
sparrows burn and
smell of
Spider Mums, and
funerals.

Then, she's gone like
the Cheshire cat.
(the grin remains.)
I get another
drink, hoping to
swallow and consume
her- to become one.
It doesn't work.
I get
frustrated, pace the
worn out
carpet, like a
caged tiger

Writer's block is
hell.
It's worse than
celibacy and
bologna.
Far worse than
constipation, or not
being able to ***.
It's like missing
the vein, or
dying of thirst in the desert.
It's like being
dead, but alive.

And
finally at
last
it's over (she consummates the deal)
and the words and
lines flow like
rain in Seattle in
the springtime.
I can
see the ***** in
the rose.
Taste
the sweet potato sky,
plant flowers in concrete, and
beat Mr. Death in
a game of go fish.
And
strangely,
it all smells like
home,
eternity,
and two-week old
puppies dreaming of
Mother's milk.

I forgot that we share nothing
but the sky at night
O wait-- not even that
The clouds are here
but not with you-- so
sometimes?

We have nothing
not even blues
or clouds
to hang on to
...or songs of love
No

Leonard's song, “Suzanne”
was always his
for me
I wonder if he ever knew
How much...
when I didn't even know?

He named His daughter after me
where he left his memory

My heart told me he was gone
to graver places

As I wrote
of love
in decades hence
I would mourn
brief moments by the sea
Go on! Go on!
Your life awaits!

while distance does its thing
along with time and rhyme
and white noise and music when I'm drinking
by myself

and
for a moment
you--
are here

I know the truth

...my wonderings
what you look like
doesn't mean a thing
your covid smile behind a mask
you take the only pictures
every trace
of puppy
strange proclivity
my darling curiosity
of art and thought
You take....

I wonder
what your breath would feel like
on my neck
should we share a moment close enough?
to know your scent?
and how in God's name
would I
love you?
Not a clue
what it's like to know your eyes?
were they for me?
some guy?
some girl?
And all the questions of--

Another memory
for time to rub away

But I forgot
that we share nothing
Not time of day, nor sky
a simple glance
nor graceful dance
What is this room that we are in?
And does it matter?
Anyway
If you are here
But no, you're not

but I forgot