By David Formanek
Every next breath alters the future.
False preachers teach our fears aren’t more than fears.
An autonomous system does its work
Leaders rise like scum on boiling bones. They soothe the restless
at random rates, hinged on random actions.
with blurry promises of outward order, inner peace.
Lungs are wet bellows that power our yells,
Don’t worry—be happy. My father’s house
help combust our food to stay alive, stay social.
has many mansions. Lost Paradise awaits.
Comfort, speed, convenience, industry
Others kindle happiness with hatred.
—all depend on burning carbon stuff.
The meek must follow. The furious
Our cars, our houses, our industrial base
enforce the faiths that others learn to dread.
comprise a servant class of human lungs
I like to know what awful’s coming next.
to skew the chemistry of fishbowl Earth.
Certainly more of the same; probably worse.
We can’t plant faster than we eat or burn.
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