FURY
after Howl by Allen Ginsberg
I.
I saw Earth’s sanctity desecrated by progeny of Satan
who crammed lakes oceans rivers with hotels souvenir shops factories
poisoning swimmers fish hemispheres with fecal matter red tides plastic bags
who turned cities into crypts tall walls no sky noxious gases
who bulldozed suburban houses for McMansions choking their plots and me as I watched in despair
who drank dry the Colorado River and hidden aquifers for casinos and condos in the desert
who rabid for natural gas oil minerals ate mountains and spat them out
who saw flocks of dead birds drop from the sky in New Mexico species vanish in the Amazon
who said
Birds die. We need the land for logging and agriculture—
who didn’t care that asthma strangles the poor.
II.
Too late, too late to fix our hellish weather where normal is a quaint idea and fire torches the forests of the West
monster tornadoes splinter homes down South the polar vortex falls like a drunk out of the Arctic into Texas where it never snowed now it snows but no power no water
and here in the Middle Atlantic summer burns through my scarf mocks air conditioning sucks the electric grid until it almost collapses or actually does collapse.
Satan is snickerimg
III.
If man learned,
could Earth heal?
Once I dreamed suburbs
were edged by field and farm.
Mountain echoed, desert whispered.
Glittering shells lay strewn on beaches—
gifts of waves rolling clear as green glass.
© Nick Romeo: Chamber