Colorless

Falling from the startled sky
a ping pong ball hits a hardwood
floor. Earthy groundlings look up
as they plant their vacillating
ports of thirsts and wolves plow
through woven bursts of hunger.

It goes like this:
Last night I realized
this tussle is bigger
than all of us, this war,
and everyone else, too.

The world does not need
saving. We need to save
each other.

In our place of power
the humidity cave contracts,
pushing me out. My wall,
porous and impossible,
quakes into birth
in a bottomed-out boat
on awkward waters.

The world does not need
saving. We need to save
each other.

Penetrate me and you will fell
the timid tree of earthen polarity.
Open yourself and I will pour out
an endless river of myth
and information. I will become
that blank, vacant stone face
of the autocratic cowboy,
plugging the pipeline
with blood and tufts
of wool, terror and wonder.

We are the air between the clouds,
the unembellished force between you,
me, silent pulse in cell phone static,
tongues that lick, pendulous TV.

If I smoke, I will be like smoke,
and of smoke I will be ... Myth
and Turks, tongue and TV. Our vapor,
my steam, colorless and apt, cools
the firestorm of the big mistake.

But all politics aside, this thing
is bigger than you, bigger than me.
We are sick and sad and shuddering
tense toward all roads leading
to darkness within darkness.

This dark place, colorless and free.
This congenial mix of ebony leaf,
taurine, fear, cell phones and TV.

The world does not need
saving. We need to save
each other. Lies and myth,
steel and money, cell phones
and tongues, Taurine and TV.