10 Nov 2015 – Night Sky
Imagination reared this burl
unfit for living in a world
where “vision” means acumen, greed,
accumulation, stolen seeds
from others fertilizing soils
with funds of life-blood, strength and toil
to feed a lust for clots of dirt
and stardust, ours by right of birth.
An endless night, a hidden berm,
at home here in the spinning arms
of diamond-pointed lights in space
that mock the madness of the chase
we’re raised to run in, feats of ants
which seek to own the things they can’t.
This lie not even wonders touch:
our lives are just the dirt we clutch!