Global Village: Tribal Breakfast
Humans salivate for property
swinish lust for pearls, gaza stripping
all the King’s mines, hyena territory.
This much the world’s made useless.
And still we scythe the greensward
close and now are sheepishly
for slaughter, ready for the drains.
Boys and girls, there’s no longer covenant,
no hopeful promise of any ark this time.
Nor Noah, no, not this time but some sudden
fright instead coming around the corner.
The revenue man coming for back taxes.
J.B. Cooper on his banana bike, scattering
all, all–sick to death of his balloons.