Decentralization

Accounting for rounding,
Amongst such data as
The star’s circumference
And its distance from our Earth,
And the exact speed of light:
Eight minutes and seventeen
Seconds, maybe twenty.

If God should pluck the Sun
From the smack center of
Our system—no longer
“Solar”—we would not know it
Until such time had elapsed:
Blissfully prevailing,
Eyes blind to doom’s approach.

Working on flawless abs,
A minute per each pack;
Creating two perfect
Soft-boiled eggs in succession,
With yolks ideal for sloshing
Fingers of hoppy, whole-grained
Wheat toast into, just twice.

Eight minutes, seventeen:
A densely-packed short film;
Reading Whitman’s, “Song of
The Exposition,” aloud;
Indulging in Beethoven’s
Fifth Symphony, Movement one,
Andante non troppo.

Sex, nap, stroll,
Chat, Scowl, love
Smile, grow, fill,
Stir, spoil, live,
Tick, tock, tick.

Past the rising action,
Beyond its climaxed crest,
In fifteen’s second half,
Approaching fame’s denouement,
In early-ending spotlight,
Yet unfinished cosmic script,
Lectus interruptus.

Seventeen or twenty
Short seconds after eight
Minutes, some, now matter.
Only then, now, day darkness—
Forever night—consumes us
     (a last three second gasp)
Sending Earth from orbit’s flight.
Uncentered, God-whimsied
     ended light.

American Jericho

Trumpets blast!
Walls fall and the demons escape
From the crumbled, pebbled stone
And powdered mortar
That contained them since
     The first day.

The walls fell on
     The first day too.
They didn’t even notice,
They didn’t even try to leave.

On the first day, they
     Didn’t know which was
In and which
Was out and which
Which was the preferred.

Sirens wail!
Walls fall and the demons enter
Through the celebrated ruins
Past the scorched libraries
That kept them out since
     The first day.

The walls fell on
     The first day too.
So they just
Rebuilt them and
Forgot about inside.

On the first day, they
     Defined which which was
Out and which
Was in; denied
Self-serving preference.

The Great American Smoke Out

My grill spoke to me tonight
In a drone of yellow flashing light.

In words and phrases incomprehensible,
Of worlds and mazes deemed indispensable.

‘Bout the hot blue night sky,
The wandering, homeless crippled guy,
My missing paisley, silken tie,
The neighbors, and how they lie,
The way all of my ex-girlfriends cry.

My grill smoked with me tonight,
And I ate like a king.