I continue to come across some old drafts as I clean out my Dropbox. Here is a poem that I can’t date exactly–maybe a couple of years ago?
I listened to a podcast today
about rare earth minerals.
It didn’t help my mood.
As the rage built inside me,
I imagined writing a poetic diatribe.
But I’m tired.
And my tooth hurts.
And I’m just so sad about everything.
What good would it do,
artfully arranging words while
the earth is cracked open
and the bodies of the poor are broken
and we here in America await news
of the next goddamn iPhone?
God damn the iPhone.
God damn the killing technology.
God damn me and you,
playing games and scrolling scrolling scrolling
on devices scratched from the bones of our
rare earth.