:B Another poem from an exercise. This is very obviously about the weather. Ugh, weather.
Round Eleven
it's too hot to think about what we're eating
don't we can't think
the pressure of everything ___ everything
on our lungs and brains
on the plants hanging from the swing set
[swarming with hornets]
"Maybrook sewer plant heavily damaged by storm"
on the mountains slowly crushing
(the heavy whitish air stifles them)
there is thunder groaning
on the other side of the sky
feet are hot from underneath & we
struggle leaping over the cusp into June
not like two years ago
the earth cracked
and the grass screamed
dust into the still
now we choke on green
the heavy whitish air
and the clouds
that settled over the mountains
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How Disturbing.
It's a Gaia Journal. You know the drill. Stuff you don't care about, written by someone you don't know. :0
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Hedjrebl
Community Member |
In my next life,
I want to be me,
and meet you again.