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Back To: The Tyranny of Materiality
Modern Genetics
As a pine-cone casually plummets on a Sunday
And a stately steel bird blazes on a runway,
The German man with the gracious steady smile will be
breathing
And the hairless head of a not yet cynical Canadian will
be teething.
How can we be sure that tomorrow the sun will shine on
Japan
Or that any American flag will survive in Iran?
Antarctic air grows sparse in the daylight and in the
dark
And Earthen forests are loosing more than their bark.
Still – my tears will calm no one but myself –
Like the lost innocence of a child learning – no Santa
– no elf.
– 4/3/92
