The Walk: It's 5:34 am, October 31st, 2027. Tonight is Halloween, and there's a ragged chem-snow falling, as white feathers out of a busted pillow. Quiet... it falls in slowly, motion shaken out of its slip by an unseen hand. Grey toxic zigzag clouds, have us locked down, and caged in, and away from the sunlight, going on a month now. It is terrible how much you can miss the sun -- the heart can ache for its light like a lover.
Poem: What Next!
Eight-carbon molecules in rivers of waste, and the sun in a sack cloth hauls itself up again into the sky. And looks down in disgust at what was...a good idea.
A thousand years inside a stone, at the bottom of a frozen...lake.
Glacier slow the earth reactors warmed it,
the sun dried up the lake.
New green showed it's tender leaves.
And crowding in around, and thought it theirs.
Years flicker in time, like bubbles in clear glass.
Images from one brief life, onto the next.
I've lived a life of just one day and lived also a hundred years...