the summer's slowing me down,
and it's alright, because sometimes i need that,
a downshift in speed and expectation, and it's great,
it is, to be this languid, to not need to finish on time,
or hurry before the store's closed, or kowtow
to those false and hastened clocks i'm trying to beat.
and yet, in this heat i feel boneless, a liquid
version of myself, even when my back
arches at the news, the growing urgency
of melting glaciers, false numbers, civilian warfare,
rising waters and record-breaking droughts,
and the rest and the rest and the rest of it.
it's not that i don't care.
it's not that i'm incapable.
it's not that i'm busy.
the question is: how do i move
toward the larger task of coercing the world's survival?