This world is going to end,
but first will come more rainbows.

The terrible beauty of supervolcanoes
when viewed from space
will likely look like an erupting field
of red and gray poppies.

The best and most startling
sunshine yellow in nature
is found in the dank moist center
of a slime mold.

Enough, enough,
modern prattlers,
supported by your self-referential peers
with affirmation alone
and negation alone;

enough with positivity
and abundance meditation,

enough with pessimistic messiahs
and apocalyptic vision.

Instead, balance your opinion
of the world
on the edge of this well-worn
dagger.

It’s a skilled cutler’s delight,
art made for killing
by someone who
could wring such perfect steel
from earth
and fire,
you just know
he had to be in love
with living
if he could put
such care
into creating this.

My face startles me
as I pass a storefront.

That shadow self
in the window
looks smart as hell
when he’s indistinct.

I know better, of course,
than to listen to him,

trust him even less
when he’s in a mirror
across from me.

Bastard,
I say, I bet Dad
(whoever he was)
broke his own mirror
the first time he caught
a glimpse of that future me
in that image.
He saw the kind of son
he was likely to father,
and that’s why he ran.

You’re not so smart,
I tell my reflection.

It says
the same to me.

Maybe
it’s smarter than it looks,
but it can’t be by much.