Keith Gaustad did not send us a bio. 😦
Grown Up Art
Walking home from the Milwaukee Art Museum past Juneau Park
I really feel that I too could be Episcopalian.
People are obsessed with Angry Birds.
A game first popular on smart phones
Which are built with rare minerals
That people are insufficiently paid
To dig out of the earth in far away places.
People are more like birds now than ever
We used to think birds were beautiful
But sometimes you may think that birds are
Sort of dull creatures for all their feathers
They still nest. Sing songs to attract mates
Or have colorful plumages designed to do
The same thing. And how most of their lives
Are simply about the act of mating and procreating
Until swallowed by cat or shot out of the sky.
Every so often I read about mass bird die offs
Hundreds of birds just dropping out of the sky
And I know it probably is humanity’s fault.
We polluted the sky or a chem-trail did in a
Murder of crows or something.
But sometimes I wonder if it is possible
That these birds, fed up with the state of things,
Are forming suicide cults and hurling themselves
At existence like angry birds trying to destroy
A fortress called reality.
I shudder then because people are so much like birds
Now. Sex culture substituting itself for mating cycles
& we even tweet now.
Endless songs pouring out into the ether
And what is most like a bird feeder
Is the technology of the moment.
Information, so abundant,
Fails take root in us. We are birds.
We get our seeds and shit them out