I told myself

/ catastrophe /

is a revolution too

a sudden turn or overturning

more like for whom

more like what are the outcomes too
I will write it down then

call it revolution or catastrophe

call upon the dead

to stand by me

conjure what methods

I have / they are reading

sinewed love and hate

through riving impermanence

and dread through beauty thriving

of the unwritten chapters ahead

when we all will have become

dead authors gathered around

flames of no writing
And with what great fear I inhabit

the idea of what is to-come

what wrecks await / us there

I must get away / from here

unscrew the caps from the condiments

take the door off the fridge and heave it outside

invite what remain of the animals in

to look and lick and linger alone

in halls and rooms we long will not have been

living in anymore gazing back at

what will then be as Hadean times

when the something not us looks back

not reading any record we left behind
We will have done this some time / I will be saying

there is no accounting for it and some people

/ the measureless breath /

of some people and some who are not people but

on the very edge of measurement

animal or plant thought cascading

we will have done this one day / imperfect

when there are no more people / we

will have said all we have to say / perfect

our futures / perfect

I love you bees / thought of the heart

I hate you pesticide company / pessimism of the will

I’d take a future imperfect still

take it even imperfectly

revolution or catastrophe

oscillating and wild