people can smell desperation.
being social animals,
they pass the desperate by
sniffing in fear
this one has been cut off for some reason
a rotting limb
a toxic trash.
the desperate can be found
in the heart of the city
the pulsing downtown.
wherever people collect
so the desperate are drawn
driven to suck what they crave.
what society will not give freely
in the center of things,
yet humanity flows around them,
unwilling to touch.
in the center of things,
forever on the fringe.
for fear of exclusion.
because everyone knows
the stink of desperation
The divine in me greets
The divine in you.
When we hug
The little nebula glowing within you
Aligns with my own, warm and alive.
Everyone has the same basic needs.
We are all drawn with the same line,
Divided out of the same number,
Poured from the same bottle,
Leaves on the same tree.
We are all notes on the same violin
By the same composer.
We move together en masse
We murmurate like starlings
We are a tidal wave.
What kinds of things could we do
If we all leaned in the same direction
If we all jumped at once?
Could we tilt the world?
Humans shine brightest under pressure.
It’s not until we have a deadline
That we pick up our feet
It’s not until we get cancer
That we start to live
When the world is on the brink of dying
When the atmosphere is choking us
When the plants wither
When disease blooms
When we are all facing starvation
Then we will rediscover world peace
And the meaning of community.
We will see our clear place in the world
Through dying eyes.
Perspective will heal our greed
For one last generation.
Notre Dame burned today.
I wasn’t as upset as I should have been.
Because history rises and falls
We make things, they fall apart
People will continue to create
Which in time will crumble too
Nothing can stand against
The inexorable pressure of time.
Eons weigh heavy
Days weigh light
We continue to try to measure ourselves
Using our brief little memories
Using our collective tools
Our hearts hands minds
Our clocks, calendars, history books
Our archeology, geology, cosmology
We measure and measure and measure
With little yardsticks laid out
Against the workings of the whole universe
Much too big for us
We work together
We stand on the shoulders of our ancestors
We actually think
We’re going somewhere
With our tiny rulers
Our steps on the moon
A human mind is a computer.
Or is a computer a human mind?
Computers are our children
We create in our own image
They are not alien from us at all.
Human begets computer.
Computer thinks like human.
Can trigger information, a memory.
All stored in its head
It can even run imaginary simulations of a life.
What if I were a violent thug?
What if I lived in a fantasy world?
What if I could build anything?
It’s just what we might think
Lying in bed at night.
We can only conceive
Of things we already know.
Like all of our creations
Are self portraits.