Saturday, July 30, 2016


"Tell me now, Muse, how the dead heroes fought"

It's amazing they survived at all,
Our silly, weak, fearful ancestors
With their tiny teeth and their small jaws,

Their spindly, frayed muscle attachments.
What a species to become the top
Predator this planet has hosted

In tens, hundreds of millions of years.
What a colossal joke on the rest
Of the tusked and saber-toothed beasts

Better at shredding their dinner.
Come to California's coast,
To Morro Bay and Cambria

Where hills are filled with wineries
And picturesquely bucolic
Cows groom green slopes among live oaks,

Where once big cats, wolves, and bears ruled.
The history here is of tribes
Following tribes following tribes

Each one wreaking some new havoc
On previous inhabitants.
You'd think whole eras and epochs

Had evolved within centuries,
Invasive species revolving
Like Gatling guns, and you'd be right.

Dead heroes felling dead heroes.
The little things, the weeping apes,
Did this, and more, and none of it.

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