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Monday, June 30, 2008

calling for thunderstorms

calling
for thunderstorms creep
in through our open windows
and the power has gone out
so we read by the light
of our cellphones poems we wrote
to each other throughout the course
of our day and i think yours is bad
but mine is much worse under
the cruel glow of the new way to live
always connected to everyone
and i can’t help but think that any poem
is worth a million text messages

and i can’t help but think
that any poem is biodegradable
all that ink and paper sogging and running
off down the tributaries to the big mouth
of the sea where it’s free to join the remnants
of the thunderstorm and become recycled
through the ground to the sky and out of
the aggravated clouds back down on top
of our cities and if we’re lucky the power
will go out again and we’ll stand outside and feel
the individual letters from poems unwritten
or written long ago falling and soaking
drop by gentle drop onto our untrusting heads