With Abandoned Frequency

thorns, grit, and quiet voices
gentle sounds of discussions and choices
bugles piping down arroyos on the wind
— here humanity begins and ends
these narrow bands snaking through the altiplan
acequias trace the modern circumscriptions
...it ain't the border they think it is



Jumping twitching unpredicted
that disconnection is no picnic
stare at the orange on the blackscreen
the music sometimes doesn't reach me
mind is busy with something else
another memory, another hell
always churning ever-burning
that's what I get for all that learning



the good news is it's a poetry
it's more like a dance than taxidermy
— or perhaps you'd rather burn weeds
either way it's not taxonomy
whether phylogeny reflects ontogeny
means neither enhydra nor lutris to sea otters or me
we're just busy little critters wild and free



marching forward like a soldier
right leg rigid left foot seeking
slap-strap together and get stronger
this dreadnaught is ever-creaking
each inch of the ocean makes it older
now she's listing with fluids leaking
as sun rises and creeps over
heat death ends my endless squeaking