once robust
unpotted and placed outside
esteem struggles to survive
valetudinarian in the silty soil the world provides
in urban cocoon we feel her heartbeat
the circadian rhythm of Gaia beneath our feet
overlaid in asphalt and unsung by the birds
in an endless summer - still, we use the words
of an earlier time and call this spring
as though seasons were still a thing
we cling to a clock, to the artificial tick-tock
of a life support beep and those who notice mourn her
and weep
she gave up the ghost quite unwilling
but once relinquished
Hope dead beyond redemption
so put back the paddles/turn off the pump
you cannot resuscitate that which you killed with slow neglect
the long pause
logy and
lurching towards cognition
fumbling past
definition in the morning after mood
partitioned by
regret and contrition
sleep serene in the exhaustion
on the other side of exquisite anxiety
slumber in the nonpareil of nonchalance
wherein the vault of all your fucks is empty
your bank devoid of cash has crashed
i was never revolutionary
i worked for change but always incrementally
i did not see that those opposed had no such qualms
that they would happily take up arms against the defenseless
so now i
who never dreamt i'd dream of a putsch before we screwed the pooch
do muse upon a coup d'etat as though it were a la-di-dah
sad for what we've lost
sadder still for the cost
