M. Hank

I'm sorry 

I'm sorry for what 

My country is doing 

For what we seem to think 

Is OK   

I'm sorry for how 

My president is acting 

As I sit in the grass a sense of magic overcomes me. The mother of all, Gaea, is here.

I can’t see her, but I feel her presence everywhere. She is crying, sobbing, mourning her lost children, the trees, the birds, the bears, the flowers.

I find at night

I am haunted by thoughts.

Simpler things, like

Math assignment due tomorrow, can I finish it by then?

or

Did I really turn in the essay or not? I don't remember...

At school

we're doing a poetry unit.

"Oh cool, we write poetry all the time!"

My friend says.

What we didn't realize, though,

was that the teacher turned on the tap

to our inner selves

What if you were 

just 

a thought, 

an idea, 

a possibility, 

a thing floating 

with nowhere to 

The deep, unconscious current guards

my hopeless human figure from

the continuous plume of silence 

echoing below my floating forearms. 
 

my pure body is tossed in a