transit authority

forests_of_rain_ns

While forests of rain
are tumbling from the clouds,
she sleeps.

From each exhaled breath,
swarms of insects, transparent to opaque,
spiral fluttering, butterflies to birds
inflating,
to armadillo exhalations.
And soon there will be humans
in the aisles of nature’s
megastore.

In a flurry of her own creations,
the goddess wakes.

I will not take that path again.

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day job

the_old_world_s

In the photocopied forest,
where origami birds shed origami feathers,
where duplicates with papered eyes
riffle through the files of our dreaming,
where carbon copied life is rampant,
Rosalyn shows me a quick start guide
for human prototypes,
their care and feeding, how to keep them far
from wheels and fire,
thermodynamics
and recirculant mechanics.

Our bonsai minds are caged and shaped,
replicas in miniature of something greater:
trains, the sky, and lightning.

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tendencies of nature

anthropocenia

Orchards and orchids, the air is filled with contagious scents,
and the colorblind angels of dreams
with wings of red and green are fluttering
around aspiring nectar.

Spring fish are hopping, sparrows are pecking at the carpet,
and I don’t mind that my mailbox is filled with ashes.

It’s mother nature. But if I poetize about her
that will be me, and nothing to do with her.

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