Carbon-based life forms

I don't know what it is with them,

These carbon-based life forms.

Paddling in water mostly,

They are little more than liquid

Themselves.

They get so much done

Just breathing!

They have this noisy way

Of coming into the world

And of dying

Soon after

Ending it quietly

On schedule.

They think and fool themselves

In groups,

Are compelled to fuck

Quick and fearful

In the dark.

They are not inclined

To take risks

But will deliver

Their beating hearts

To the highest bidder.

We understand them

Poorly

But at least this much:

Their energy comes

From the sun,

Their spirit from the moon.

They waste most of both

By exhaling and getting nowhere.

If they love anything

They love air

And wetness

And for the sheer fun of it

Putting seeds and eggs together

Over and over.

Only rarely will the great-grandfathers

Last long enough to meet the great-grandchildren.

So messages in bottles

Are sent to float and whisper

In the blood.

Singing, they turn their neighbors

Into tuning-forks.

They do most everything

Chemically

And in unison,

Like fireflies.

Lonely, lonely

They soldier on.

  

Admirable, cruel, awesome,

Beautiful beautiful

All of us.

                                              -- Panama, February 6, 2005