Pristine Sound

So many houses set back from the beach; dark windows imagine sailing the boats anchored offshore. Where is everybody? Docks never peopled. Sails never raised. Where are the fishermen? Where are men in high pants on the rocks up to their thighs in the water? A cash of color never studied, so rarely even observed. Why are the branches unbirded? Are all holed up in houses? Are the birds gone for the winter? There is no shortage of cars. Or of communication devices. There is no shortage of clocks or of watchers. There is no shortage of sugar. Of the sugar that is killing us off. There is no shortage of fences. There is no shortage of bombs. There is no shortage of fear. There is no shortage of bars.
     The plants water themselves, making the weather.
     No one enjoys these waters.
     Even in the rain.
     Where are the nets?
     Where are the hunters?
     Even in the fog which is in fact the best time to be on the water. With your little heater. With your bottle and your baby. With no one.
     And solitude is the most cherished time. We best remember being alone. Because we were left to our thinking.
     And there are minerals to extract; crabs to cultivate. There are seals to control.
     Turn from the wall that blocks the way.

Record High!

Before the market reaches a million
Will the workers get a raise
Or will it reach a million
Because wages stayed the same,
Actually going down
Because of inflation?

When the market crashes
Will the workers take the loss,
Losing wages and benefits
And time with those they love?

You Said It

This is their general feeling:
No real need to continue on;
We made it this far;
We have nothing to prove.

Living a philosophy
And misunderstanding

Utter fatalists, individualists,
And misanthropes,
They wear earplugs
To block the sound of the
Earth / animals / people

Suffering?  Where?
I will do something.

Their cameras are turned inward.
They only look at pictures of themselves.

They drive new cars
And have low interest rates.

They feel good.
They feel like they are twenty-five.

Suffering?  Environmental destruction?

Pesticides, herbicides, chemical fertilizers.
Nothing wrong with them
In moderation.

Nothing too much.

Not too much war.
Not too much torture.
Not too much spying.
Not too much radioactive waste.

They love self-checkout
And their stupid phones.

They try not to worry.
They work to keep their stress levels low.

They are terrified of death.
They envy youth.

They wear a lot of synthetic fiber.
Their homes are highly flammable.