Monday, June 21, 2010


Colossal flops they can be; and most are
Either bumblers, abusers, or tyrants—
Men and women—huddled around a star
Of zero consequence. These are the giants

Which populate our fables: the nightmare
Titans we wrestle with, gods of such power
We name planets after them. They care
Nothing for what they crush—dream or flower.

The few attempting human form fail
Spectacularly. I have photographs.
Mom sits there in the sea filling a pail
With sand. Here, a lost thumb eclipses mass-

Ive mountains—ridges—off in the distance.
The thumb is dad’s. It has his fingerprints.

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