by Gary Lark
 |
AI-generated graphic by Shutterstock for The New Verse News. |
This time
this time
like any other time
like no other time
our time.
Now I understand,
we’re disposable.
After a long life,
tasting the wind
from all directions
I get it.
Fires in Europe,
Canadian forests ablaze,
drought and floods,
we reach into the night
asking consciousness to save us.
The great beast of us
wheels and turns
desire in every hand.
Exploit and plunder marches on.
We could have,
we should have done something yesterday.
I know, I know
it will be different this time.
If I were a giant, I might pick up Congress
and shake it until the rats fall out
but I wouldn’t mess
with the janitors and secretaries.
I go to the river in the evening
to watch it flow through town.
I don’t want to drink it
but I do.
this time
like any other time
like no other time
our time.
Now I understand,
we’re disposable.
After a long life,
tasting the wind
from all directions
I get it.
Fires in Europe,
Canadian forests ablaze,
drought and floods,
we reach into the night
asking consciousness to save us.
The great beast of us
wheels and turns
desire in every hand.
Exploit and plunder marches on.
We could have,
we should have done something yesterday.
I know, I know
it will be different this time.
If I were a giant, I might pick up Congress
and shake it until the rats fall out
but I wouldn’t mess
with the janitors and secretaries.
I go to the river in the evening
to watch it flow through town.
I don’t want to drink it
but I do.
Gary Lark’s most recent collections are “Coming Down the Mountain,” “Easter Creek,” and “Daybreak on the Water,” His work has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Catamaran, and Rattle. Gary and his wife Dorothy live in Oregon's Rogue Valley.
