Analysis of the Angels, of Love and Death.  Slow but sure.  But you know that? What about the kids?
analysis:
grumpy old men notwithstanding, the heat is on.  and/or up.  The Heat is arming not to defend us from the heat, but to beat us up if we squeal.
Adding fuel to that fire is the fact that climate is changing and has already changed.  The ocean is more acidic--we don't have to guess too hard to figure out where that came from.   Coral died to warn us decades ago.   now will come any shelled animals, including plankton.   whales eat these.   i forget the name. it's krill. aspen are still moving north but too slow to escape their beetles.  same with pines.
    burning has been a human endeavor for centuries if not eons.
    is it too hard for you to figure out how global warming can create high snow in New York?
well, when it's hotter more water evaporates: that's maybe why the oceans won't rise 40 feet like Al Gore said.  water can remain in the atmosphere.  until it can't anymore.   then it whirls up a low (heavy) air force that begins to spin out of control.  it sucks up energy and grows into a small or massive climate change and blows civilization into the next nightmare.  it makes messes.  in excesses.   it is not as gentle as before.  and the runoff includes crops and dusters, ships and low-hanging fruit of once pretty sea shores, gold courses, fisheries, and ports.  so does mankind cause it?  could it be coming from the sun...or god...or some uncounted cycle?  no matter.  we have the power to adjust to it to diminish its power no matter what the cause.  if we take out CO2 from our atmosphere it will be reduce the water in the air no matter what those other so-called possibilities do.
    if we can go electric from solar and wind, could there be any harm?  when the world health is at stake people argue about the remedy?!   i'm not shocked, but dismayed.  sit upon some hill over-looking your city at rush hour, pick a rooftop.  you will see the barrels of oil rolling by.   for one thing, it cannot last forever.
    so improve the batteries.  yes.  but we'll still need some gas for jet planes.  if we want to travel.  let's just cut back.  China is coming up and they'll want drive-in movies!   they must go solar.  they already control the cellular part of the industry.  so they're in.
    natural gas is not so bad, as a transition and for cooking.  it does not spread cancer all over the food.   why not?
    why not escape from coal?  just in case.  it's filthy anyway.
    we need to save every endangered species we can.   which one will be the end-trigger?  my guess is plankton.   not so much trees.   there are trees that can live in foul air.   eucalyptus for example.  and palms.   the jungles are also shrinking, which kills all life.   once the spongey soil is replaced with dead zones life moves on to another zoo.   this one is called Earth, shrinking even as our stupidity over-populates it more and more.   who says not to use condoms: the catholic church, and Islam, wherever more warriors are needed.   nice job by self-serving religions.
    there is little chance in this scenario that the meek will ever inherit the Earth if there remains anything of value to inherit.
    one more idea: do not be alarmed.  oh go ahead...shiver with fear. what if something triggers IMMEDIATE global warming of 5-6 degrees?   AND both the arctic and antarctic melt in one year?   the glaciers all melt.  and 90% of that water goes into the air?  as water for rain  creating more low pressure zones for ever-greater storms of destruction of life-giving rain?  What if in two years, all the cities under 10 feet elevation get crushed by giant waves?
    will we see martial--read fascist--law?  is that why the arming of police forces everywhere with military equipment?
    is this how we wish to cure over-population?
will we actually have to worship the rockefellers rothschilds and morgan and duponts and lady beatrix who owns 21% of Shell, or will be able to pray to the corpos for our daily bread?  justa couple bucks at the door.

Cheney and Bush were like a couple of 12 year old boys all pumped up on GI Joe comics, attacking a wasps nest in the forest not far from their jet-propelled anti-gravity vehicle protected by the demur Dumbercat minority in congress just in case they needed to whip up some faux immunity from calling the fire department to put out the wasps.
Or if that's too long-winded, i think the Kurds got to come and take over Texas and all the gun-toting Texans ought to go make a million in Kurdistan.

The Beach

THE BEACH: Part I of SWIMMING TO FUKUSHIMA
[This one for S.]

….just listen to ‘em: cryin’ out, “Me!   Lookit me!”

as if.   oh there’s a boy checking me out.   walking down by the wetstuff.   it’s not my imagination.  is he a hustler?  he looks too young for even the depravedhungry of this city.

the Beach is louder than the kids who play here.   messier than play.

this is the school of play.

the Beach lies still gettin’ worked over 24/7 with a foot massage and various night time inspections and scratchings free of charge.   

the Beach is high and dry.  it has cold feet.

Upland, it’s guardians, the blue quail cry, “Chee-ca-go Chee-ca-go! 

2 times as they run away from their nests.   

the Beach is swept by the breezes/storms/the hot sun/

cooled nightly by the spray.

--home to a zillion garbage-picking litter sweepers from 

the sand flies, sorting out the quick and the dead to 

the sand crabs (peering intently myopically/politically 

from their transient burrows wond’rin’ 

if you’ll move yer head) 

the seagulls the sand birds like the sanderlings who run out dart back before the surging waves spearing morsals we’re too slow to see bubbling up between the waves…pokin’ right round  where i tossed a hang nail--ulp--

they flew 1,000 of miles for this trove.

sand dabs were nibbling at my toes, in the shallow, 

wishing now 

pieces of me’d wash down.

sea urchins urgin’ me in, “Sleep here!”  they cry.  “With us…

with us…!”

i’m feeling da love, start makin’ an angel in the sand 

with my arms and legs, it’s snowing in Chi-town.

sand mites, sand bacteria...sand viruses...catch that…painting my bones with their saliva in their dreams.

but i am un-incorporated.

you are my only incorporation--otherwise i, l’hommie, have not one sure foot on this dumb deaf and gorging gorgeous planet, my desire.

i threw my brains at your feet and and i breathed free.

one grain of sand a tiny world a half a pair of hands clapping in a poet’s audience.   for a poet.  self a grain of sand. 

in the poetic beach of eco-wordia.

we all want to write our truth one kaliedoscopic mish-mash 

of colored motion in the maze of our emotion so everyonecanseeit.

to dream of capturing the silently splashing waves of thought…

to assess, devolve, reconstruct, redux the sound of one’s own silence.   silly peurile pearls of fearful, revelatory, insightful, harmonious,  enlightening, clear-ities from points of view so dispartate that not all can be true to everyone everything, allthetime... that... starts...  

from silence…

hiding --for one fleeting minute-- from cacaphony.

silence that begins with listening...to hear 

the quietude, dude!

of the void.

whereas everyone wants to speak;  [ if just for a piece of the action. ]

to think is to listen.  i listen to the waves that pour over me at my desk.  in bed.   here, as the sands trickle through my fingers...

i think in language therefore i write, or therefore i am, or was, 

if these neighbors of mine have their way.

we are small and countless: grains of sand.

everyone wants to be counted; no one wants to stand up for anything.

[ that horrid risk of being washed away. ]

we’d be majestic mountains, vast prairies, fixed, 

promontories, unfeelingly sturdy,  heartless, rock-like immutables.

so hard-ass we’d rather float off in space than join the party.

[ somehow less scary than being in one place all the time: 

eternally trapped. visited never visiting: no one invites the mountain down, the cape across the bay, the valley: to come on up an’ see us sometime.]

everybody wants to know the ANSWER, but nobody wants to read.

everyone wants to get in the game, no one wants to practice.

everyone wants to be a hero; no one wants to risk.

everyone wants to kill something, nobody wants to get shot.

everyone wants to be free, and yet, is repulsed by politics:

If you don’t get into politics, politics will get into you.

everyone wants to change the world, but nobody wants to change.

every poet wants to make her guesses too deep to get:

every grain of sand wants to be a beach.

---o---

...there’s a boy keeps looking at me…

my eyes half closed.   waiting.   glancing upland at suspect armies of cohorts, all 14 with daggars, arrastra’j’oes, they call ‘em in Brazil.   They give me the Creeps.   This is His Hashtag World.

Wanna rest in the hot sand? whole world wants a bite.

Penguin lying in the sloshing waves-exhausted.

..mermen rising from the waves.  mermaids laughing…

.this water’s too cold.

for 

joy

.

.

.

everyone looking up land