We're in good hands for this summit followed by a reflection

So, We're in good hands!

All the delegates are here.

One trusts

They will get it right.

The chair will make sure.

Order! Order!

Sleepers will be castrated.

(What's the cause again?)

The chairman is nonplussed.

(I'm just going to say, I hate that word.)

The chairman is upset.

This should have been easy peasy.

We had a whole year

To come up with an impressive agenda!

Nobody goes to the bathroom until we vote.

(Now that's leadership!)

Everyone looks tired.

Everyone looks wasted.

Everyone looks like they would rather be home

Walking the dog or painting the car,

Or making donuts or practicing yodeling

Or taking up ballroom dancing or cleaning the garage.

Will somebody ask that man in the back

To stop turning his head 180 degrees?

He looks like he's not human!

Now everyone is doing it!

Is there a human in the house?

I think it's time to take a break.

Turn on the air-conditioning

Better yet, everyone hold hands.

Form a giant circle around the hall.

We'll tone.

It doesn't matter whether you have a voice

Or can carry a tune.

Let the sound of our voices

Heal us. Heal the planet.

ommmmmmmmmmmmmmm

........................

Reflection:
I tried to explain at a recent poetry reading that poetry is my way of letting my trickster out. The trickster dances between the opposites and is out of the binary universe, the universe of convention (and conventions!). He refuses to get sucked into the flow or the script, any script . A Summit for the trickster might be the inverse of a summit. He might see it as a nadir when what is revealed is how f-ked we are, with no hint of a real working agenda for dealing with the climate catastrophe we all face. This is no time for a summit! We should be going to the sacred mountain on our hands and knees for answers. I know that "summit" refers to the status of the high and powerful participants of the summit. But really everyone is powerless, and many-times-over a loser, completely out of sync with reality, complicit in the unraveling of the natural world. Shame, shame, shame. But the trickster is not invested in shaming or being right. He is only calling a spade a spade. It energizes him to dance around the subterfuges and hypocrisy of the ones directly or indirectly responsible for accelerating global disaster. He doesn't complain or castigate, he dances, he ridicules, he laughs at the garish three-ring circus of the world.