this one goes out to the cloned mammoths
and to secrets beneath the ice
to the unearthed buddhist temples
and allied boats fossilized in low tide
to ancient relics found in the scorched Yangtze
and the beat poetry
in my spam folder
generated by machines
in the Balkans
generated by machines
in tunnels below Biscayne Boulevard
to the wildfire lightning
striking twice
in the heartland
to walkie-talkie codenames
broadcast on short range
from whirlybirds and big rigs
backsliding from base camps
and basements
and bass amps
young anarchists
and to power grids
we share remarkable pain
in your persistence
breathing the unexplained decimals
I havenāt painted in months
my brushes lay scattered
blank canvas
a song for the Atlantic
rainbows vivid in black mirrors
a telepathic persuasion
succumbing to perfect rhythm
to the dim-lit galleries of the avant-garde
where tradition withers like cash crops
in record heat
the drive-thru sign melted by sunlight
in the trending photograph
on the spectrum
like Iām visible light
shining through the birdcage of an African gray
roaming shape-shifting terrain
I havenāt spoken in months
let alone painted
an abstraction or manifesto
an abyss or a mantra
you salt the wound
sit at the keyboard and bleed
a profane love
black gold in the water
this one goes out to the unrooted and uprooted
leaning ladders on the border wall
roaming through flatlands and dust
in a world full of rain
my angel
where have you been?
I am in your rising house
pouring saltwater on the breadbasket
I am full lotus in your cone of uncertainty
the endangered species is on the guestlist
for the movable feast
perched on an inclined ice floe
in tropical breeze
as the risk index rises
receiving robocalls from paradise
Iām sorry
can you hear me now?
I have been counting every grain of sand
taking metaphors literally
the sea is a surrealist poem
ink and foam and seagrass
clocks and anchorlines
a shattered hourglass on every coast
a vampire squid, a pendulum
white squalls turn pupil-black
from graveyard earth
darkening the well
gilding lilies in midnight oil
this one goes out to dune-born hatchlings
chasing moonlight
to fallen drones in the red sea
masked men tightrope walking on supply chains
to sunken pyramids
and the planes that evanesced
like cowboys into the drink
if nothing else
please feed the strays when we have vanished
please look closely
as the palm trees shake in cold breeze
somehow hold the sunlight
somehow describe the toned muscles
of the acrobat
flirting with disaster
tell my broker not to hedge for collapse
please call my brother
I donāt have any language left
to pluck fruit from the vine
I have seen the day laborers dig for gold
and the fallen owlet take flight
the autocrat strung from his ankles
specific earth from specific states of mind
brass knuckles, punching numbers
punching clocks
we will miss the lost aesthetic
of smoking in long cars
we will miss the old-time spirit
of only partial automation
and the clear blue of new days
pop art dreams of interstellar luxury
the dire wolf, the buffalo
the anti-war movement, the Colorado river
electric guitars and books on paper
this one goes out to the lonesome whale
singing frequencies of alienation
to the dream girl smiling in the mugshot
the ideal husband frowning
at his body in the mirror
mass graves and mudslides
I will build you a pipeline through stolen land
I will move the earth at your convenience
as I am looking out
at the black sky
and the black road
and the black water
and the black cars
with black windows
and black steel
pumping black oil
and black boots
on bomb black rubble
and then red poppies
fresh from the frontlines
like a New York City silkscreen
flood the black market
blue, astride a white horse
from the black sea region
we drill tectonic
and it flows from bottom to top
David met Goliath when he was slinging rock
this one goes out to you, chopping carrots
with a 1000 pixel stare
we havenāt partied in months
thereās dust on the sequins
this one goes out to flyboys cruising bombers
over the half-time show and lithium mines
over fertile crescents and food deserts
low watermarks and all-time highs
over heavier traffic than usual
on hot tar and surplus grain
a pilgrimage of progress
we imagine the weary traveler knocking at the gate
on a global scale
if youāre cold theyāre cold
in our dark days, solar winds and carbon runoff
abolish ice from the maritime tundras
scuttle, sublimate
someday we will be fossils
that make our children work faster
hands around the maypole
around the meteorite
around the oil well
divining futures in the swirls it draws on concrete