Leaving the Rock
I’m jealous of the complacent.
Mainly because I don’t understand
Them, and feel like they’re some form
Of glass people I want to collect
To tuck into ornate wooden castles
I’ve agonized over stick by stick
To simply try to make sense
Of what chromosome is missing.
To finally decide
If knowledge is the devil,
Or the brother of the savior
Who’s beefy palm I just shook.
It’s a daily mystery, with equal
Parts inquiry, suspense, and abject terror
Over unknown viral characters
Splattering the news — daily whodunits.
I squander my days wondering
About the irrelevant
Because although sensitivity
Isn’t a color, it scores my pigment
And though I can argue about the cost
Of ink and the power remaining
In printed words held, we need more
Mammoths to shoulder this world.
I’m sure you know that some people
Don’t want to change the world.
Another shocking revelation
One morning I dared leave my rock.
My basking glasses were broken
That day, which happens from time to time
When I’m not careful enough
To consistently edit my world.
Holding my ears, chanting la-la-la
Doesn’t change what is, or what comes
Closer to melting this glacial breath
I hold with shaky gaze.
I’ll still be railing inside
On that spaceship to Mars,
After Elon’s figured out how
To create the ark, lamenting
The extreme loss of the mushroom,
Although by then he may have sorted
How to take them too,
Along with stinger-less bees.
Those left behind Earth’s apocalypse
Will know a starless darkness,
Peering out of tunnels beneath L.A.,
Bee stung and claustrophobic
Caught in bubbles of endless formation,
Looping ever-shifting dimensions
Of battles between the most masterful
Puppeteers: Space, and Time.
Looks like we’ll all be glass people in the end.
