Contingency

The moon gazes
through April’s silver maple.

Earth’s half-in, half-out
of the sun’s habitable zone.

Powerful with eternity, 
blinding with intensity.

The rushing stream topples old trees; 
the peaceful father, mother.

Lazy, happy, 
mirror, desert.

Zazen position,
necking in the front seat of Dad’s car.

Moderation, persuasion, elections.
Way stations, stopgaps, safe havens.

Cheap jewelry can be sexy;
stop fixing things with duct tape!

Nothing but matter matters,
chipmunk, groundhog, skunk.

Do not provoke
an angry baboon.

Why care about the future,
the dead don’t live to see it.

I’ve come to see
if this is true.

Author's Note

"Events will still pile up, with or without an identity willing to organize them.” --Rachel Cusk