"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Monday, April 22, 2013


Day Twenty-Two: The prompt is to write a poem in keeping with Earth Day, but for some reason all I came up with was about the world ending.

The world
has never been so small
as in that moment,
long forewarned,
when the sun stops moving.

It is all one,
heat and cold,
mirrors of emptiness
and, in a touch of empathy,
mirrors are windows.

As grass is fire,
so is the urge of a species
that has had it good
since an ape stood upright -
violent and pure.

To the last,
they make a bad thing worse,
trampled and trampling,
overrun with instinct
and the tools to act.

For once, it is true,
even as the sands run clean -
nature takes over
and as it pushes its boundaries,
the animals are in control.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
TV On the Radio, Young Liars

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