Densities 210

I might have 20 summers left if

I live long enough

I will caress each of them

with lightning over the mainland

wind storms that shake the trees loose

piece by piece

while the waters rise up

while the sun scorches the cities

while wild men massacre themselves

in the name of God the Economy

and the beast in the seed that lingers

I have always loved the dust

in all its forms and figments

as it slips untouched through my fingers