Our World is so fucked, the gulf is
crying out in oil suds mixed Fossil Fuels
-all-
      -gone-
-dry-
In this heat wave they speak, as I
                                    kick
          leaves in  duck-taped strides,
I wish I could fall-lie
        As Hermes dives to the side of every
Poet's cry...
       There is a voice to be heard.
A                distant train silhouette  in the mismatched
   sentence, yes tell us why?
Curious as Cat-In-Hat, mischievous
                                                             ­   as This-Or-That,
where would the power dream?
Of
      Us
            Worthy,
of what we feel inside, a
-survival kit, -a heart's wish
or a -simple stitch..
   of eloquent words and sighs.
                    To Bee,
         what,
                   It ought To Be.