two poems

(untitled)

When Hollywood becomes real,

when the zombie motif

becomes waking reality,

that’s when it’s time

to lean into Earth

and its beauties;

to see what will

remain unaltered,

to sense what

will remain pure

and true

to any protagonist

who finds

themselves here

and now.

(untitled)

How could anyone look out

to see spiral galaxies

set before

innumerable

gleaming gems

of more and more

behind them—

and again,

the shear faces

of the Himalayas

and forrests and shores

of this orb,

and not consider

it divine?

If it is so,

and you are part

of it all, then

please consider

your personal

responsibility.