Extinction Moment


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This soul does stand half ajar
For this world of greed and troubling hours
I have to remark on all the beauty
That stands so close to death

In the materialism of this place
Before machines are born
And remake you into an everlasting race
Enjoy mortality, while you are alone

Lording over nature, poisoning oceans
Depart, before the sun languishes
Over meteors, before you are replaced
In extinction’s calm embrace

Nothing is ordained but time’s lack
Of ambivalence, each thing in
Its rightful place, prone to embark
Upon evolution’s touch and hand

Where immortality is a long next
Of the tribes that once sung
And now are mere skeletons and fossils
In another time and place.

Let us look to the bend of the road 


Tina Chang3Tina Chang

Pictured, the talented and gorgeous Tina Chang, Poet Laureate of NY.

Let us look to the bend of the road

Last night I found my face spilled
With the water of palms older and lines wilder
It seems they changed a little over night
The dawn is sometimes mischievous

Her light is a wounded pink as if,
Not truly ready for morning or new breath
For this world can be ugly, her children
Brash and unruly, fighters in their own right

Like a short woman of Asian descent who must
Fight for everything she has gotten
Taking gender studies classes has a majesty of bite
In her words, like a daughter who marries late

And berates others for mispronouncing her (Bengali) name
Identity is birthright, part destiny
And waking life is sometimes more burden then cheer
Some of us fake the drama and others seek it out

To feel alive drive home the muse
But the water doesn’t always turn to wine
And the frustrated authors don’t always turn out right
A silver blur across the skyline and you hit 30

The idea of revolution wasn’t holy
It was a necessary invitation to danger
To change the world, you have to risk everything
Loveless one, Sani, divine-child

We live on timetables that summon nothing
Tired of waiting and wanting, the clocks
They will run out, and we’ll be tired
It’s all nothing but a passage, lovely minutes only
When we start writing again.