Friday, September 23, 2016

"recyc" by John Reinhart, Frequent Contributor

John Reinhart

shipping containers, ion stabilizer
casing, fuel cartons with pictures of all those missing
children: last seen crossing the Eagle
Nebula on skis, at Orion’s spaceport,
hawking jetpacks illegally, with a stranger
on the shores of Medea’s black hole –
images of beings lost to the single
stream of vibration just perceptible
as light particles wave goodbye
before darkening someone else’s
threshold, shadows of former selves
playing supporting roles to the universal
clamor for more, new, shiny, improved,

still we cobble together
the discards of daily life, through
the wash again, then spin dry, a grand
cyclone in the promise of sparkle
generated from a little elbow grease

Poet's Notes:  As we stand upon the shoulders of giants, as Ellis Island stands upon a mountain of garbage, as playgrounds sprout atop city dumps, we increasingly recycle aluminum cans, yogurt containers, and newspapers, the refugee children of Saturn's age, praying for another future, a future only possible if we drop pretenses off jagged cliffs to crash into ocean spray below, and dig our hands into the soil, watering seedlings with our blood.

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