ALL THAT FLYING AROUND

My favorite part of this is all the flying around. Cosmic butts bend and in our faces.

They understand nothing about sexuality. They would vociferously deny it. There is nothing sexual about your ass turned up. Simians do it. We are not unrelated to them. They fly around from tree to tree. I go outside at night usually to see meteorites burn up and melting in the big black lake of consuming sky.

Going outside at night is breathless. I’m in my backyard watching the sky. Electrifying. Wild animals started coming around. Life I never knew was there. Almost silently, eyes on the human in their space. Space. We are all in space. Flying around like crazy. What’s crazy is that we know so little about where we live.

The information is there. But Homo sapian likes to see it. Feel it. To understand where it all comes from.

The coming together of the planets is pure illusion. I get how we are supposed to blissfully wonder at ourselves for our so-called expertise.

We don’t exactly pat ourselves on the back for climate change. All of us, including the animals who watch me carefully, are at risk. As a species, we are to blame. Period. Us. There are too many of us. The planet groans under the weight. The gravity of extinction is real. Not an illusion.

It is too late to institute the kind of changes that could help us make the connection to economic disparity, and like the illusion of a coming together, our coming together to confront caste as a part of climate change, and the shortcomings of Capitalism. No one wants to hear it. Consuming fear. Eating it.

I am lectured about hope. All I connect with is doom. People articulated to me that they wished they could go to Saturn, Jupiter, and optimism flies out from them not unlike the aurora flashing a magnetic choreography.

I hope Homo sapian stays home. We have ruined one planet with our waste. The animals come out at night to remind me.