34. THE WORLD NOT RIGHT

The world was never right,
I guess
In the good old days
the devil was loose
roaming the world
seeking the ruin of souls
one awoke at night
sweating in dread
at the howl of a dog
chained to a fence
at the edge of town
edge of the world
where men have set foot
on the moon
was an alien planet
thought to be a face
made of cheese,
with unknown terrors, tygers,
behind fitful running clouds,

where today
against the sweet silver moon
runs a gleaming 707
easily surmounting
the dark turquoise sky
We who huddled in caves, cold,
afraid even of warming fire
poured from the sky by our
generous sky father/earth mother,
afraid we were, afraid we are,
still all the old instincts,
still that sweating in the night,
world not right, never right,
poor world, poor us.