Our bees aren't social distancing,
As they buzz about the hive;
The ants aren't wearing masks
In their pismires, yet they thrive.

Racoons wash without soap,
Llamas spit  without remorse,
Monkeys' feces fill the air,
Dogs are crapping everywhere,
The watering holes of the Kalahari
Have larger crowds
Than political rallies.

Every insect, bird and beast,
With scale or feather, beak or teeth,
With legs or wings, bellies or fins,
Still swim or fly, walk or crawl;
We succumbed before them all.
It's back to Eden,
Back to the fall.

On my bed of rocks I lay
Under a roof
Surrounded by walls
I've made myself comfortable
In where I lay
Under covers that warm my body
I live
I breathe
I feel safe
I don't

Awake at night
Under the cover of night
In the warmth of my blankets
And whether I wish to see the moon
"What for?"
It's difficult to leave the warmth
Of the blankets that night after night
Provide me with what my body needs
With what my soul needs
And what it doesn't need

Surrounded by the silent static of my room
Encased in residual superpositioning noise
Wasting away in the lull of audio that is
Always there,
Draining away,
******* at your will to reach forward
Slowing you down...
The silence that I need at night
The comfort of it as it guides me to sleep
Intoxicating

I close my eyes to sleep
In the
Safety of my home
In
My bed
Under a roof
Surrounded by walls
I think to smile
But it doesn't feel pleasurable
Just painful

This story happened last year, last fall right before school began

Summer talk has stopped sigh - free and easy days, parties and beach trips are over. Now attention turns to the fall and the start of school and the “2019 Social Season.”

Fall begins tonight with a social (a very formal dress party) and the night ahead looms long - these are the events that, for some reason, my siblings live for shaking head - I hate them.

The British would've held this party in a garden - when they ruled the world - but we're modern man - we get the St Regis.

My two best friends aren't here tonight so I'm stuck with my "peers" - the extravagant children of rich houses - those seekers of happy times drunk with an absence of accountability - as they enjoy their metrical friendships and wander lost among forests of bad choices.

Have you ever seen people high on their own surface reflections? It's not a good look.

I see a new purse worth an economy car - honors at the feet of conceit - presented like erotica - let's all just drown in special privilege - "That'll cure racism" - I crack - to cow-like indifference.

Don't worry, my generation will save the planet - we got this.

My grandchildren will read
The year had already passed,
By the time they were born,
To stop climate change.
I don't know how they will get the information.
I don't know when they will get the information.
I don't know from what or whom it will be delivered,
Or how it will be communicated.
I'm sure the news won't and shouldn't come from me;
Although it came duplicitously from me, and others;
Driving them everywhere, flying around, BBQing animals.
And all the entrapments of a twentieth century middle class life.
The grandkids will have serious questions,
Like Why?
I have loved you to death.
Will there be any to answer
When the signal arrives in 2070?

I was tricked into believing
This is my world.
There are too many signs
That can't be ignored.
It's certainly not my old world.
No, not my world at all.
Not the one I inherited,
And not the world I'll leave you.
And I'm so sorry for the mess we're in.
I'm sorry I'm made of carbon,
I'm changing,
I could be a diamond still.

we're dead
wrong--deadly
throngs, heading
for death--& long-
itude & latitude's
gone; hope to hope to
hope again; carried
on wind, waves; ferried
in mind; waves, long-
ing kind waves;
shall we find ways
to not be dead
wrong? are the days
too short or two longs
repeating too loudly?
too proudly? too cloudly?
but Earth sang songs long
ago; She sings again,
bellowing: you're deadly
wrong.

Have you had enough of childish lies
and incompetent response?
Have you bathed in toxic manhood
until you long for nuance?
Are we going to save this planet?
Or will we all move somewhere else?

Will we turn our eyes toward justice
or become a failed police state?
I propose a national "makeover"
a new "US" to change our fate.
You adults will have to do this -
I only hope it's not too late.

Walking the city,

with a thought to the shelters –


where life is teeming.

The way I live, to be forgotten, but I'm still here
living all my low effort heroes.

Sometimes I get low but it's alright,
I have my heroes.

It's OK to let go. Release,
Regrow/move,

Replant your soul;