Or Us

The waltz of the germ and the phage
Has gone on for who knows how long.
The germ is life, and the phage is

Who knows what—its name hints it eats,
But, at play in the ring of life
Made by the germ that lives and dies,

The phage just jacks the DNA
To force the germ to make more phage
To spec ‘til the germ bursts its guts.

This is the dance. It can kill you,
By the way, the way you might burn
All the woods in the world. Too bad,

Whoops. The germ and the phage waltz on,
Arm in arm, if not from the dawn
Of life then near to it, if not

To the end of the Earth, then close.
How nice of you to give them names
Like us. All will come down to them

Loon Pond

It’s a good spot to camp,
If you got the spare time,
Spare cash, and the old wish

To get out of town, split
Like a wisp, a few fumes,
Just some ash in the air

Where you were, where you aren’t.
Now you’re here. That’s the trick—
To get lost good, to be

The ghost that is. You loon.
A pond like this is bound
To drown more than your corpse.

Try Wolves

The task of each life
Is to make more life.
That’s the way life works,
Cells, roots, teeth, and brains.

The task of a poem
Is to ease that pain,
To work out some rage
At what lives life’s made.