Today we gave away all our blue sky love.
Masked the hours were,
in vestiges of dirty white and diesel gray,
a bright imposter of a sunny day.
Air so sticky still what we took in was not enough,
and thus, trees recede to less vital hues of
Abba album softfocused green.
All around, Nature wails.
Dry insects cry for us with clicks
and buzzes brittle as are dried out sticks
that taunt the haunted wild hair of arboretum in such despair.
No rain. Or thunder comes.
No chance for light
to steal a glimmered sight
off a green leaf droplet drum.
Rainforest dreams all around our errands.
Only the shouting hole clock
running all around
spoke passage to the heated hours
I flailed on salmon rivers through today.
A tortuous opaque,
a folly of filthy fleece mistake
pulled over all the distracted eyes
where once yearned Kingdom come
from mighty sun,
who goes down even now red with embarassment.
And down below as he does go,
the night rolls in with seeming thunder,
DJ Demiurge's booming on the mic
his laser show bad ass real the bomb.
Blackness in. It has arrived!
Shall they ever miss or know the sun
outside Hollywood dim-lit?
A billion glowing smartphone screens
one by one flicker clicker quicker
lost lights become
entagled in Glamour's gaze,
oustside of Source
and served up page.