Yesterday, 01:30 PM
When things really piss me off
I go and write a poem
or walk the dog and watch the trees
ensconced in their xylem, phloem,
reciting plant Hesiod in the breeze
with no tree linguist to know ‘em.
They don’t care about our goings on,
the anthropophagi of the wheat and corn
industries. We’re just consumers to them,
numbers on a spreadsheet, going
up and down as assumptions vary.
Give me a tale instead, of Mary
speaking to Hashem’s
son back from the desert, hairy
and full of smiles.
I go and write a poem
or walk the dog and watch the trees
ensconced in their xylem, phloem,
reciting plant Hesiod in the breeze
with no tree linguist to know ‘em.
They don’t care about our goings on,
the anthropophagi of the wheat and corn
industries. We’re just consumers to them,
numbers on a spreadsheet, going
up and down as assumptions vary.
Give me a tale instead, of Mary
speaking to Hashem’s
son back from the desert, hairy
and full of smiles.