The Answer is Often, “I Don’t Know.”

Sometimes I think we are so repulsive and stupid as a species that I don’t want to go on living. I was just reading an email about drone activists who are trying to stop targeted killings in a protest, and I felt remorse for being born Homo sapien. But then, I was hopeful because everything is definitely crumbling.

At the same time I am distraught because of the ugliness that has been just beneath the surface of our supposed post racial society that is now right in my face, as I read about a spike in hate crimes

I read three poems today, and I should probably read my own words more often. One was a rant, that people seem to like:

But then I read a sweet one about love as we reincarnate as spiders eat our beloved.

And then I  read the one were I talk about those of us who keep walking through, no matter what. Peace, out.

The Answer is Always Yes

I am neither the hummingbird nor the honey bee.

Forget the obvious pretty
forget the product
forget the thing you love
to love
I am the fly
that you would die without
that thing
that everything dies without
that thing that was
born to be in love with
moving DNA plant stuff
that thing
that everything
needs to cook up life
and carry on
so flowering plants can carry you on
as you think I am a lesser version
of a butterfly
you write poems about
after you put on your white gloves
and go into your backyard
and pick your purely bred
roses, red

to put on your
dining room table.

The answer to the question
“Can people really be that stupid?”
is always “yes”
I read, and I laughed
without real amusement
at the end of earth as we’ve know it
so much muchness
in the name of stupid
and crop yields
the answer is always yes
to make a culture/system/structure
replace five thousand
indigenous cultures
so why not
replace ten thousand
species of plants
with one guy
with a comb-over
and a gene spicing kit
so that
we can insert in their stead
one species
of plant that someone said
should be sweeter than candy
last a year on a shelf
taste good as heroin
and it gives us diabetes
and cancer
but we can fix that
declare a war on stuff
we’re great that way

the answer is still always yes
to wish a hearty goodbye
to ten thousand generations
of stewards of Turtle Island
with their godless wild notions
that every inch of the planet
is alive with wild love for us
kill off the notion that
to love to truly love enough
is to pronounce the word “sacred”
and then make this earth truly so
and then
let’s act like
we like the idea
so much we
want to be them
without really being them
after we have gotten quite weary of
our notions of whiteness
we’ll call them noble
or cool
once they are gone from earth
or imprisoned
or no longer in our neighborhood
let’s scramble
to make it all better
all of a sudden
the whole world smells funny
and the noon sky isn’t supposed to
really look like that

newborn babies aren’t supposed to
make us cry
when we look at them
but we do look away
when they are misshaped
from our viruses.
The answer
is always

Six Lifetimes of Love

I vow to see who you are
completely and without fail
for this life
and five lifetimes after.

If you come back as a spider
and I come back as your mate,
even as I devour you
I will hold my abdomen
with two of my eight legs
and rock back and forth for a while
as I digest you

because I will
miss you already.

And if I come back as a clear-cut forest
and you come back as an industrialist
I will enter into your dreams
when I am fallen and made
into your four-poster bed.
And I will sigh into your aching heart
and that will be my gift to you:
a heart that can finally
be broken

because I will love you into that lifetime,

And then you can be a squirrel
and I can be
the acorn
that falls at your feet
that you bury until winter.

And you can be the thirsty man
and I can be the rain.

And I can be the rain
and you can be the rainbow
that the people see.

Ourselves Walking