There is a world coming
that should be.
I can see it.
It's close to being the
world we have
But different in some
important ways:
More food for the hungry,
More love,
More honesty,
Less gas and oil and
meaningless death and wars,
More love,
Oh, I already said that,
more love.
And let it be soon
Before it's too late
And the door closes
For the creation of
would-be worlds.
But whether there is a
new world
The time for the end to
this old world has arrived
With a clap of thunder,
So loud it makes your
brain go numb.
It makes your ears ring
Like the great gong
In the courtyard of a
Buddhist temple
To an ant climbing on the
gong,
When the gong is struck
33 times
For the 33 faces of the
Buddha.
Help me see this world!
Help me paint this new
world large!
How about these colors?
Dip your brush deep:
For the desert,
orange-rose,
Seaglass-green and ochre
for the roofs of the village,
For the clouds, purple
and blue,
Red and cerulean-blue for
the dragon tumbling out of the clouds,
Diving into a wide plain
of waving grass.
Finally, signs of the old
world ending:
Swimming pools overflowing
With swimmers swimming
across
The barren land for their
lives.
Bad people shrinking,
One centimeter a day
until they reach the size of ants
And disappear into tiny
cracks in the earth.
Good people growing
In beauty and stature.
And suddenly everyone
knows how to dance!
This new world may not be
for you;
Just wait and see how you
like it.
There can be other new
worlds.
We'll just pick the one
that we like best.
See that deer
Lip syncing?
It looks fake but its
real.
She is saying,
It will be OK.
Finally, listen and you
will hear
The breeze rehearsing the
tenth prophesy.
It sounds like an old New
Yorker,
Someone from Brooklyn,
Like one old man to
another on a park bench.
Now turn and watch those
pigeons
Take wing over the
traffic
Heading south,
Their white underwings
catching the sunlight.
It breaks my heart to say
this
But you old world
corporate hustlers
Have run out of love.
Here's how it's going to
be for your next incarnation,
So listen up!
Remember the jet that
landed on the Hudson?
(Who doesn't remember the
jet that landed on the Hudson!)
It was a flawless
landing.
The exit hatch opens over
the wing
On the Manhattan side,
And the passengers gracefully
descend the great wing
Of the slowly sinking jet.
It's as if they rehearsed
their escape
A thousand times
So it's beautiful and
flawless.
(Their voices randomly
amplified like wild geese.)
But instead of what they
did next,
Which, personally, I
don't remember,
You will spread your
wings,
You will circle the big
silver sinking jet
Before you form a perfect
V
And disappear over the
city,
Honking good-bye,
Good-bye, good-bye.
That's how the old world
will end
For the new world that
should be
And it will end a million
other ways.
I don't really care how
it ends.
As long as it is poetry
And as long as it is beautiful to someone.
(Article changed on April 24, 2018 at 02:04)