Our first reader poem in February! Thank you, Shelly.
How we lost track of real happiness
So many lights. The streets are just vendors.
Time is a tree. All the prophets sat down
to watch it. Trucks came anyway, just plowed
them over. No need for figs or old words.
We started to build then, all the numbers
blazing, predicting justice in the loud
configurations of planes on screens. Now
is the time for action. Mercury stirs
his extravagant reflection. We know
the earth is round. We know how to turn books
into light. Isn’t this beautiful? Soon
we’ll make power from nothing, learn to grow
grass without water, catch fish without hooks.
No one prays. No geese will fly through our moon.