• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 12
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The weight of the world

There is no perfect balance,
the world is blue and red,
and the green often doesn’t enter
into anyone’s accounts.

Some things have no weight,
like trees and birds
and the other side of the hill,
the white house red-shuttered
in the fold of the valley,

like dragonflies and carp in the pool,
wind rustling oak leaves,
acorns in the path, dusty
and ordinary, where we walk,
skinny furtive cats.

The weight of wants, desires,
waste and war, cruises, beaches,
dark glasses to shield from the sun
and unsmiling haggard faces,

new cars, old people with young faces,
fashion shows, hamburgers,
the gleam of celebrity teeth,
crocodile tears and thoughts and prayers,

the weight of gas,
guzzled until we choke,


The weight of the world

coke, cardiac arrest,
the circus of oblivion,

account for more than you or me,
the dragonflies and the acorns
that will never grow to be oaks,
so apologise to the skinny cat,
and take it in your arms,
for we are all for the dark,
‘and the stars look very different today.’