Inexplicably, a giant hole opens up in Siberia.
Everyone in the world feels somehow responsible.
Ice caps are shrinking; oceans are rising.
Global warming is not debatable.
This was the warmest June ever.
Yet my metabolism slowed.
While no one pays attention,
we set out to destroy ourselves.
There is shame in our actions.
As we worry about pimples,
we accidentally burn down the house.
The summer has turned tropical.
Wildfires attack certain states.
We get regular thunderstorm warnings.
My pets don’t understand the noise.
The earth rattles.
We learn to compost,
We require recycling,
but is it too little and too late?
Time seems to be speeding up
along with the trivialization of existence.
Farmers learn the concept of sangfroid.
Potable water will be the cause of future wars.
Human loneliness is a frightful noise.
And somehow we blame unions and teachers.
Mountain rages replace ranges.
Innocent children try to escape the violence
and poverty of their native homes.
They come seeking freedom, and a bite to eat.
The Middle East steams with turmoil,
destruction, and political unrest.
Unreasonable rulers seek to create
a new and more dangerous cold war.
Egos replace compassion. Again.
Blood is spilled for senseless reasons.
We delude ourselves with sports and entertainment.
The stock market rises in spite of economic woes.
Ants run frantically over to the site of a spill.
We suffer and scramble the same ways.
It seems we are no better, no wiser.
Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, teacher, and former music journalist. His works have received multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominations. In 2013, he took part in Found Poetry Review’s Pulitzer Remix Project. He champions the underdog to the melodic rhythms of obscure power pop. New work is forthcoming in 3 Elements Review, Fine Flu Journal, Brickplight, Stone Path Review, Stoneboat Journal, The Bicycle Review, Foliate Oak, Poetry Quarterly, and Think Journal. His collection, Small Consolations, is coming from The Aldrich Press in 2015.