woolf called it a buzzing
a shameful static in the air
pulling down the corners of our lips
and greasing our hair
while we look back
hoping for a world fair
it takes not much to recall
we were never there
truth has never been faltering
we have just never cared
see the thicket of the wires
decide the truth we share
some will blossom now
some will shed
some will be toppled
and some bled
we will fight for a world
we will never see
we touched the sun
but stopped writing about trees
who will save us
and what truth will
prevail
will dogs outlive us
i'm hoping the trees will.
