Email Poem

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Poem

Oh my brothers 
How many  
Of us 
Fox 
Will survive 
The coming 
Long night 
Of the ending age? 

In the deep countries 
We hide 
And sup 
On the glowing  
Locust  
As the comets strike 
And humans 
Disappear  
Into their dark 
Recesses of  
Their ranch  
style homes. 

 

Their 
Automobile  
Parked Murderous 
on the twisting  roads 

Of their success 
Midnight journeys
Remain empty and quite  
In Their quick  
Decreasing.

Rusting into the 
Metallic bones
Of prehistoric beasts

Even the giant 
Dandelions cry glossier tears
Of seeds
For humans passing. 

Come brothers let 
Us write our songs
On the flattest leaves 
and  cover the blank
And empty windows
Of  human homes

To not wake
The dead
Through the lack
Of grief
For their passing
For fox
Always have
Their well dug holes
In which to sleep.

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