Moon So Bright

Tai Chi under Kauai moonlight (Deb)

True, we’ve managed to invent the pickle spear,
graffiti solvent and restroom robots,
but on the whole,

we’re not a bright people —
chipping off pieces
of our own cave for souvenirs,

fracking our brains out
under the hydraulic tutelage of greed-ware,

pump-jacking the North Pole’s
flagging torso;

and now, laying our minds, our skills, 
at the feet of the AI mill, 

while the phallic hubris and the vacuous soul 
of the pro-tech-bros, keep driving its adoption, 

never pausing, critiquing, refecting — simply
assuming our willing march into the maw.

                                        Once, 
I hear tell, we were cool as cats, 
lapping from earth’s cupped palms,
giving Eden a run for her money.

Once, moon so bright, 
night bloomed,
called us star-eyed moles.

Once, after the time of wheel and fire,
we pooled reason to make rafts,
called on history for rudders. 

Today we go sailing away
on the beams in our own eyes.

Today, if you’re singing, 
there’s probably an angel nearby, or,
you’ve managed to forget the last century or so.

May it be an angel — a choir of them.

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